


The A Experience

by iamnotbrianmay, Rose_2925



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Everyone Is Gay, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pre-Fame Queen, Sharing a Bed, Virginity, pre-fame, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2019-10-03 03:13:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 50,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17276027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamnotbrianmay/pseuds/iamnotbrianmay, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_2925/pseuds/Rose_2925
Summary: Brian May, 2113 kilometers awayI am looking for someone to come with me to a Christmas dinner and pretend that we have been dating for two months.





	1. to be true i must confess

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, this is my fist work of this fandom and I ask you all to have some mercy! 
> 
> Enjoy!

**The morning started out slow.**  Brian woke up and opened every single curtain in the house, letting the sun stream into the small apartment. Then he waddled over to the kitchen in his old socks and started making coffee and tea for himself and his flatmates.

He turned on the old radio in the kitchen and flipped through a couple of stations before giving up on finding something interesting to hear. He tuned into the rock station, the one who had _The White Stripes_  complete discography playing on a loop, and started to make breakfast.

The smell of eggs and pancakes drifted all over the house, and soon enough Freddie and John wandered out of their room and towards the kitchen. He smiled at them, handing them a cup and letting them fill it for themselves while he went into their room and opened up the blinds.

Noise from his flatmates and the radio filled the house, and when Brian walked into the kitchen, Freddie was already taking care of the food while John set up the table. Brian smiled and served himself a cup of coffee.

“Oh, darling, Phoebe told me we needed to bring napkins.”

Brian frowned, John nodded, “Anything else?”

“Just the usual,” Freddie answered as he reached for the plates, “maybe a bag of peanuts or something for the guests and some cheap wine.”

“And the presents.”

“Of course.”

Brian sipped his drink and watched the exchange peacefully, relishing in the fact that he was probably going to have the house for himself for one night. Maybe he could watch one of those old Carl Sagan documentaries he had been trying to watch for months now that he wouldn’t get interrupted with demands for putting things that all of them could enjoy.

His happiness, however, was cut short by Freddie, “What are you going to take, Brian?”

His head snapped up, and he met Freddie’s eyes, “I was invited?”

Freddie rolled his eyes, “Brian, dear, this is the _Christmas_  party, of course, you were invited.”

“Besides,” John said as he laid the plates on the table, filled with steaming food, “you are always invited to everything, Brian, it’s not our fault you don’t go.”

“I do go,” Brian defended himself, “just not when I know I’m going to get harassed by the lot of you.” He plopped himself on the chair and glared at Freddie and John, “‘ _Why are you always single, Brian?’ or ‘When are you going to get yourself a boyfriend?’_ ”

Freddie just laughed, “Well, it’s not going to be any different this time.”

Brian rolled his eyes and took a bite out of his pancake. He was glaring at both of his friends and wondering if he could come up with a valid excuse for getting out of the situation.

Maybe he could pretend to be sick? No, that would only make Freddie and John stay behind and take care of him. Perhaps he could tell them that family thing came up? No, again, Freddie most definitely had his mother’s number saved on his phone, he would just call her and Brian would get busted. He was so busy trying to find a valid excuse that he missed Freddie’s comment.

John kicked him under the table, and Brian turned to glare at him, “What?”

“You spaced out again,” John said, “right in the middle of Freddie having the best idea ever.”

He turned to look at the older man, and saw that his brown eyes were glimmering with mischief, “What Freddie?”

“We could call Tim.”

Brian nearly spits out what he had been drinking, “That’s not happening.”

“Why not?” Freddie asked, “You like him, and he clearly likes you.”

Brian blushed furiously, “Freddie I am not having this conversation.”

He picked his plate up and started to walk towards his room, ready to eat inside it if the conversation were to continue. But Freddie was faster, and he rushed past Brian and jumped on his bed as if to say  _‘there is no escape from this’._

“Freddie—“

“Brian I am sure he will be delighted to go with you to our Christmas party. There will be food, drinks, friends _, mistletoe_ —“

“Freddie,” Brian said sternly, “no.”

“Why not?”

“No, Freddie.”

“You can’t keep harbouring this silly school girl crush and not act on your feelings, darling.”

“I said no.”

“Why not?” Freddie asked again. “Give me one reason why you can’t invite Tim to go with you other than _‘oh, I’m so shy I might die’_ ”

He opened his mouth, ready to scold Freddie on his terrible imitation of Brian May, when John, dear old friend, piped in from the kitchen, “Leave him, Freddie.”

The taller man smiled triumphantly and nodded at the older man. Freddie scrunched up his nose in annoyance at John and started to stand from the bed.  
“He probably doesn’t want to invite Tim over because he is scared Tim will discover he is a _virgin._ ”

Brian turned around so fast that the fork in his plate clattered to the floor. Freddie threw himself back in the bed, shrieking with laughter.

“John!”

“What?” The younger man asked innocently, “You haven’t had a boyfriend in five years, and you are too much of a prude to actually have a one night stand. You don’t expect us to believe you have actually had sex, do you?”

Brian didn’t need a mirror to know that his face was bright red with embarrassment. Partially because of the conversation they were having, partly because it was true. He knew it, they knew it, everybody who had ever had contact with Brian May, the nerdy astrophysics student, knew he was a virgin.

Most of the time it didn’t bother Brian. Most of the time he was more than glad to lay back and read a book instead of going out clubbing with his friends. But there was just something about the way Freddie and John were both laughing their asses off, making fun of poor Brian that made him snap.

Maybe it was the fact that the boyfriends were laughing at him rather than with him like all of those other times when they tease each other, or perhaps it is the fact that he has had a pretty shitty week and he cannot stand to have his friends making fun of him, but in the end he screams over the noise, “I am not a virgin, okay? And the reason I won't take Tim with me is because I have a boyfriend.”

There is a heavy silence in the flat, and then all hell breaks loose. Freddie is rushing up to him sitting him down on the couch and instantly harassing him about the revelation, and John picks up his iPhone and calls someone, probably Phoebe, to tell him that Brian was taking someone to their Christmas party.

Brian instantly regrets ever being born.

He buries his face in his hands as Freddie rambles on about what they expect this guy to be, asking so many questions that if he were to actually have a boyfriend, he wouldn’t have had the time to answer one question before the next one came. Oh, he was screwed, he was totally and utterly fucked.

“— please, dear, at least show me his Instagram.”

He looked up at Freddie, the boy was holding out his phone with the search bar open, and Brian felt like he wanted to cry, “Are you going to stalk him?”

Freddie looked aghast, “Well, of course, darling, what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t?”

Brian saw the opportunity and took it, “Then no, Freddie.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” Brian paused, trying to come up with a valid excuse, “I don’t want you to scare him off.”

“I would never!”

Brian rolled his eyes, “Yes you would, Freddie.”

He stood up, grabbing his forgotten breakfast and making way into his room. Freddie followed, urging Brian to give him something about this make believe boyfriend he had created.

“Please, just his first name.”

“No,” Brian said as he placed his breakfast on the small desk inside his room, “That is enough for you to find him.”

“I mean probably,” Freddie agreed, “but—“

John walked in at that moment, holding his phone triumphantly and smiling like a madman, “Phoebe says that your boyfriend is more than welcome.”

Brian’s heart fell to the pit of his stomach, and Freddie smiled, shutting his phone off, “Well, I guess I can wait until Friday to meet this boyfriend of yours."

"If he even exists, of course." John looks at him with a smile on his face, and Brian feels his pride open up his mouth and make him spit out the words he says next.

"Of course he exists, and you will meet him on Friday." He slams the door to his room, and after a few seconds, he presses his face to the cold wood, wondering why on earth did his mother teach him how to talk.


	2. making coffee im a mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger Taylor, 19 
> 
> 13 kilometers away 
> 
> Drummer, Singer, Biology Student.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so, someone asked me if Brian was in love with Tim and the answer is yes. But don't you worry, Roger is coming. 
> 
> Also, I can't believe the feedback I have gotten for this fic, honestly i had never had so many comments and kudos is the first hour or so of posting and i just wanted to thank you all from the bottom of my heart, I love you. 
> 
> Also swing by [my tumblr (@iamnotbrianmay)](https://iamnotbrianmay.tumblr.com/)and say hi!

**Brian's fingers ghosted over the screen of the phone and he wondered,** not for the first time, if he should just come clean to Freddie and John. They would tease Brian endlessly, sure, but he also trusted that his friends knew that there was a line that they could not cross. On the other hand, he could also feel the sting of John's words like a slap. 

They were right though, he hadn't had had a boyfriend in the last few years; and Tim Staffell, his ever-growing, ever-present crush, didn't make things better. Brian knew he was not ugly, he knew for a fact that if his mind and heart hadn't been with Tim for the past two years or so he could have easily been in a relationship. But love is stupid and even though he only sees the younger man three times a month at most he is still hopelessly in love. 

Brian groans, pressing the edge of his phone to his forehead and wishing he had just said yes to Freddie's idea of calling Tim over. 

But no, Brian had made that bed and he had to lie in it, he had to somehow get a fake boyfriend by the end of the week. A guy that was nice enough for him to be actually dating and cool enough to act like a boyfriend in a house full of people who made Freddie Mercury look only slightly weird. Oh yes, he was royal screwed. 

He looked at his phone once again, staring at the picture of himself playing Red Special at a bar. His hair looked like a mess, his smile was so wide that you could see his weird teeth and his eyes were focused on Freddie, who was singing at the top of his lungs a song by  _The Rolling Stones_ that they had been obsessed about at the moment of the gig. Brian smiled at the memory knowing that was the night that a curly haired boy would walk up to them and say,  _'hey, you are a cool duo, wouldn't you like a bass player?'._ Yes, that was definitely a good photo. 

But the rest of the profile? A mess. 

He barely had any other pictures of himself that he actually liked so he settled for the next best thing, candid pictures that Freddie often takes of him and John around the apartment and while practicing. Then a bad— no, terrible—picture of the three of them in a carnival ride in which they were all making such stupid faces that it never failed to make Brian smile. Lastly was his description. It was short, sweet, and straight to the point. 

_Brian May, **21**_

I am looking for someone to come with me to a Christmas dinner and pretend that we have been dating for two months.

He looked through his profile once again, trying to convince himself that what he was doing was not sad, and that he would at least get one match. Even if it was a creepy old lady from East Wisconsin. In the end he didn't even let himself think about what he was doing much, he just clicked  _'Post'_ and quickly closed the app, trying to focus on other things on his phone. 

It went well, for about five minutes, then Brian, ever the obsessive, started checking the app every couple of minutes. He would have a system, if he liked a post on any social media he would go back and refresh his feed, waiting for an answer on his pathetic little profile. He fell asleep like that, waiting for something that would most likely never come, because who on earth would actually swipe right to that? 

_Hey, it’s me, a twenty-one-year-old dude who can’t get a date._

Yeah, pathetic. 

In the morning when he woke up the profile was still empty of requests. He restarted his phone in hopes of it being the apartment’s terrible internet or a glitch, but when he refreshed his feed again the notifications were still empty. Brian sighed and got up, ready to face his flatmates and tell them about the latest gag. 

He put on the largest hoodie he could find, and stuffed his cellphone in its pocket. Then walked ruefully out of the room, ready to face to music. The house was uncharacteristically quiet for a Monday morning, and Brian frowned. He walked around, looking for the other two boys and found no one, and when he opened the door to their room he found it pristine. 

He took out his phone, and checked their group chat. 

**_f. mercury:_ ** _had to get to class early_

**_f. mercury:_ ** _deacy drove me_

**_f. mercury_** _: there is fresh orange juice in the fridge_

Okay, so he had the house to himself. No Freddie, no John, no need to embarrass himself any further until they came back. He felt the tension leave his shoulders, and he quickly texted back. 

**_b. may:_ ** _At what time are you coming back?_

He set down the phone on the counter and started to prepare breakfast. He once again tuned into the rock station as soft hummed along when _Black Math_ started to play. The kitchen filled with sounds of cooking, Brian singing and the old, crappy, radio playing in the background. He was in such a good mood that for a second he even forgot about his dilemma, until his phone dinged and he was brought back into the present. 

He walked over, waiting to see how long he had between now and his imminent death, but instead of the usual notifications he usually has there was a banner that read in bold black letters. 

**Roger Taylor is your first match, say hi!**

He stared at the phone wide eyed for a few seconds, trying to see if what he was seeing was actually true, and was only snapped out of his haze when the screen turned black once again. He rushed forward, leaving all thoughts of breakfast behind, and grabbed the phone. 

He was so nervous his hands were trembling and had to insert the passcode four times before he got it right, but once he was able to get in he couldn’t believe his eyes. Not only was this _Roger Taylor_ not a creepy old lady, but he was also an actually pretty gorgeous guy. Blond hair, baby blue eyes, and soft features that made him look breathtaking in every single one of his pictures. 

Then, as in a miracle sent from heaven, the beautiful angel sent him a text. 

**_Roger Taylor:_ ** _hey brian_

**_Roger Taylor:_ ** _i would love to be your pretend boyfriend if i’m not too late_

Brian stared at the messages in disbelief, and then panicked once another bubble popped up with the text _‘typing…’_ written on it. 

**_Roger Taylor:_ ** _actually i would love to be your pretend boyfriend even if you have already made the agreement with someone else_

**_Roger Taylor:_ ** _ditch them and take me instead?_

Brian freaked out, he felt like his hands were going to fall off out of excitement and nervousness, but he texted back a well crafted, deeply thought out, reply. 

**_Brian May:_ ** _Yes, please be my pretend boyfriend_

To which he eloquently added, 

**_Brian May:_ ** _You are very cute_

He stared at the two messages wondering if he could erase them, or even better, turn back time. After a minute of staring at the conversation, the phone screen turned black and Brian was forced to go back to do his breakfast, only this time he was paying more attention to the phone than the task ahead. 

A few minutes later Brian failed to ignore his phone once again. 

He opened the damned thing and looked through Roger’s profile. There were a hundred thousand pictures of him in every possible angle, doing everything from sleeping to playing the drums. He scrolled back to the top and looked at his information. 

_Roger Taylor,_ **_19_ **

_13 kilometres away_

Drummer, Singer, Biology Student.

Then another texted dinged and Brian was quickly reminded of his very awkward —  no, very weird— introduction to Roger. 

**_Roger Taylor:_ ** _no u_

**_Roger Taylor:_ ** _lets set up a meeting spot?_

**_Roger Taylor:_ ** _so we can go over our story before your party_

Brian smiled and failed to notice the scent of burning eggs that came from the frying pan in the stove. 

**_Brian May:_ ** _Let's do that._

**_Brian May:_ ** _When are you free?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this was a completely disaster, but i had such a great time writing this chapter. I hope you liked reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! 
> 
> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated, also swing by [my tumblr (@iamnotbrianmay)](https://iamnotbrianmay.tumblr.com/)and say hi!


	3. dont know anything about football

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selkie Bar 
> 
> 9:32pm 
> 
> Four days, twenty three hours, and twenty eight minutes before the Christmas Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god guys, I can't with your comments and feedback! I love every single one of you and I promise to try my best finish this as soon as possible. Thank you, thank you, thank you! 
> 
> I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint! I definitely enjoyed writing it a lot! 
> 
> Swing by [my tumblr (@iamnotbrianmay)](https://iamnotbrianmay.tumblr.com/)and say hi!

**Brian hated his job ninety percent of the time.** It was tedious, demanding, and usually left him feeling like death by the end of his shift, but his parents couldn’t know about his habits of playing in a band with Freddie and John, and the job as waiter paid the exact amount of money for him to keep that secret safe. So four days a week he would ignore his school work and rest time in favour of making what little money a low wage job could make him. 

However, the part of his job that Brian did enjoy made up for every single time he ever had to suffer because of the odd hours of lack of sleep. Every once in a while the musicians hired to play at the bar failed to show up, or even worse, were terrible at what they did. These were the moments in which Brian’s boss would send him a look and he would clean up as nicely as he could in the pub’s small bathroom and start singing for the crowd. 

That night was one of those nights where his hard work was rewarded. 

He put on a black button-up shirt he usually leaves at his locker for the exact occasion, and starts tuning the acoustic guitar that the bar owner keeps on the back. It’s not his Red Special, but it would most definitely have to do. He tried a few simple melodies to warm up and then when he felt confident enough he stood up and walked into the stage. 

People didn’t clap, but Brian liked to pretend they did. He could imagine himself as a huge rock star, playing for thousands of people and hearing them all chant his name, even if all he was ever going to get was crappy old bars and run down restaurants. He sat in the middle of the stage, microphone in front of him, guitar in hand, and barely bothered to introduce himself before he started to play. 

He sang to the microphone, and played like some sort of second nature, he breezed through classics, newer songs, and even one or two which he had composed with Freddie and John seating at their apartment. 

When it was finally time to leave he did get some applause and the feeling of warmth that filled his chest was enough to get him through the rest of his shift. However long that might be. 

Brian walked over to the bar and ordered a glass of water with ice. He leaned against a wooden table as his coworker, a lanky guy named Ryan, complimented him on his guitar skills as he preprepared his drink. 

Then the bar owner, a burly old man with more grey than brown is his hair, walked over and patted Brian in the shoulder, “A good show, like always.” 

“Thank you Mr Lee,” Ryan handed him the glass of water and Brian took a sip, then thanked him, too. 

“You know,” Mr Lee commented, “I think you got yourself an admirer.” 

Brian raised his eyebrows and felt his cheeks heat up, “Oh really?” 

Mr Lee hummed in agreement, “He seems like a nice bloke. Long hair, charming personality, almost mistook him for a girl!” 

“Don’t you say.” Brian tried to sound excited. 

“Oh yes,” Mr Lee agreed, “and he is looking at us right now.” 

Brian looked around the bar, trying to find the person that his boss was talking about and at first he couldn’t find him. But then his eyes met familiar blue eyes and he nearly choked on the water he had been drinking. 

“Funny looking, ain’t he?” 

Brian felt his cheeks hot as fire as Roger held his gaze and smiled, “I don’t know how you could mistake him for a girl.” 

“The long hair, pretty eyes,” Mr Lee patted him in the shoulder, “well I better stop talking about this boy. My husband always finds out when I do.” 

Brian was still looking at Roger, and the younger boy must have noticed that he was stuck with his boss because his smile only grew. Almost as if he was laughing about Brian’s current situation. He was leaning against a table, nursing a beer and laughing at the older boy’s misfortune. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and was startled out of his thoughts. 

“Did you hear what I said?” 

Brian wracked his brain, trying to see if he had been paying attention to a single word his boss had just said, but he came out empty. His blush increased a tenfold, “No, um, no? I am sorry.” 

Mr Lee laughed and rolled his eyes, “I said go get him. I can take care of the tables for tonight.” 

Brian blinked, twice, “Are you serious?” 

“Quite,” Mr Lee said, “you know, they used to call me Cupid.” Brian’s blush returned full force, and Mr Lee laughed, “Go get him. Consider it a gift for tonight’s amazing performance.” 

He managed one nervous thank you and his boss laughed before patting Brian in the back and sending him off to meet Roger, guitar on one hand and glass in the other. As he approached Roger’s smile widened, “You never told me that your day job was playing at a bar.” 

His voice was melodic and soft, for one second Brian forgot how to speak, then he quickly realised that just staring would probably only make things awkward, he put his glass and guitar down then stuffed his hands in his pockets, “It’s not. I’m actually just the waiter.” 

“A pretty impressive waiter.” 

Brian blushed and scratched the back of his neck, “So, what are you doing here?” He stopped scratching once he realised how that must have sounded, “Not that I don’t want you to be here, no, no, no, it’s actually great to meet you in person but I —um, I guess I just didn’t expect to find you here?” 

Roger laughed at his awkwardness, “I know what you meant Brian, don’t worry,” he took a sip from the beer in his hand, “I come here often, but I don’t think I had ever seen you.” 

Brian raised his eyebrows, “You do?” 

Roger nodded, “I like to call it a pre-party bar. The beer is cheap, so is the food, and the atmosphere is just right to get me in the mood.” 

Brian scoffed, “Well, those are things you definitely don’t think about when you work here.” 

“You don’t like it?” 

Brian shook his head, “I’d rather be studying or playing music, if I am honest. But I need the money.” 

“Understandable,” Roger said, and silence settled over them. 

It was awkward and long, Brian was suffering because of his lack of preparation for the meeting and Roger seemed painfully unaware of the fact that Brian was, in fact, struggling to fill the empty space with words.

“So,” Brian wrung his hands together, “do you want to talk about, you know, it?” 

Roger raised an eyebrow, “The Christmas dinner?” Brian nodded, and Roger took another swig of his beer, “Jesus you make it sound like a funeral.” 

“That’s because it _will_ be my funeral,” Brian mumbled and Roger laughed. 

“It can’t be that bad, can it?” 

Brian made a gesture with his hands, as if he was trying to explain everything without words and then looked at Roger in the eyes, “Oh it will be for me if we don’t get this right. My friends are like all my worst nightmares combined into a single group of people.” 

Roger frowned, “Then why stick with them?” 

“Oh,” Brian said and crossed his arms, “because I love them, of course.” 

Roger stares at him for a couple of seconds before he shrugs, “Sounds fair. So, what is the plan?” 

Brian smiles, takes a sip from his cup, and sits down. Roger follows his lead and sits down on the seat in front of him. They smile at each other before Roger leans forward, resting his chin on his hands. 

“Well, first we have to know everything about each other. And I do really mean everything.” 

Roger snorts, a loose strand of hair flutters with the exhale and Brian thinks that maybe he might be a little too excited about getting to know the boy in front of him. Roger cocks his head and looks at Brian innocently, “Okay, _boyfriend,_ tell me everything I need to know about you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a slut for comments, please let me know what you thought about this chapter! 
> 
> Also, sorry for the delay, there has just been a lot on my plate lately. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	4. been unfaithful once or twice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian and Roger regret everything™️

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! oh my god, sorry for taking so long to update. This week has definitely kicked my butt and i just couldn’t write. hope the long chapter makes up for it! 
> 
> also, this is not beta-ed like the last chapters so any mistakes are mine alone! 
> 
> enjoy!

**“And then my parents threw the pie to the garbage!”** Brian threw his head back in laughter and he heard Roger scoff before the younger man said, “It’s not nice to laugh at my misery.” 

Brian wiped the tear that had formed at the edge of his eye and smiled at Roger, “It’s just-- how unlucky can you be, Roger?” 

The blond took a swig from his beer, “Oh, you have no idea. It’s like I attract unfortunate things.” 

“Well, let's hope that doesn’t happen on Friday.” 

Roger giggled, actually giggled, and Brian attributed the small sound to the younger man’s tipsy state, “I don’t think anything bad will happen. Our story is flawless.”  

And to be fair, their story  _ was  _ flawless. They had spent the last four hours chatting, planning, and getting to know each other. Roger had a knack for coming up with the weirdest stories, and Brian had followed along until they found the perfect story, with just the right amount of ridiculousness that people would understand why they hadn’t told everyone in their lives about their romance. 

Brian could perfectly picture the scene, a late night coming back from university, taking the tub to get home as fast as possible, and a grimmy, and bloody, biology student coming up to him with two satsumas in his hands. 

_ “I just ended the most intense gig in my life and I physically can’t open these. Can you  _ please  _ help me?” _

Brian was snapped out of his daydream by a hand being placed on his shoulder. He turned and found Mr Lee smiling down at them, “I’m not trying to kick you out but-” 

“Are you closing now?” 

The older man nodded, “Thursdays are short days.” 

Roger picked up his phone and looked at the time before raising his eyebrows, “We have been talking for five hours?” 

Mr Lee laughed, “Yes, it’s two in the morning.” 

Brian stood up and smiled at Roger, “Wait for me, I have to get my things.” 

Brian grabbed the guitar and the glass, leaving the later in the kitchen and taking the guitar to the employees’ section. He left the former in the music stand, and grabbed his things. He looked at his phone, there were dozens of messages from all the chats he had with the people at his university courses, asking him about homework and what not. He erased those and only stared at the ones he cared about.

**_f. mercury:_ ** _ there are leftovers in the fridge and a cup of hot chocolate in the microwave _

**_f. mercury:_ ** _ i would tell you to wake us up when you get here but it's too late _

**_j. deacon:_ ** _ Try not to make that much noise. _

Brian smiled at his friends’ texts and quickly sent an emoji as a reply before putting on his heavy winter coat and his gloves. When he came out Roger was still talking to Mr Lee, laughing about something the old man had just said. He looked beautiful in the light of the bar, head thrown back and cheeks flushed from the alcohol. 

Brian walked over and smiled at the younger man, “Ready to go?” 

Roger wiped the tears from the corner of his eyes and nodded, “Man, I wish my boss was as cool as yours.” 

Brian shot Mr Lee a smile, “He is great.” 

“Well, lover boys,” Brian tried not to blush at the comment but failed miserably, “I have to go now.” 

“Of course,” Brian says and reaches his hand out, “Thank you for tonight Mr Lee.” 

Mr Lee shook his hands and smiled, “No problem, just make sure not to let this one go.” 

Brian laughs nervously and Roger does too. He waits for a few seconds until the blond has his winter coat on. Then the three of them walk over to the door. 

The temperature outside the bar is below freezing. Brian instantly regrets not telling Roger to go home sooner, because the hour definitely doesn’t help with the cold. Mr Lee waves goodbye at them before he crosses the street and opens the door to an apartment block. Both boys watch him in envy, feeling their noses turn to blocks of ice. Brian is the first to break the silence, “How far away is your house?” 

Roger wrinkles his nose in annoyance, “Like fifteen blocks away. I normally like to walk but…” 

He trails off and Brian feels a pang of shame, it’s partially his fault that Roger had been held up at the bar, and now had to walk fifteen blocks back. The weather was terrible, the cold was numbing all of his fingers, and the snow was falling so mercilessly that Brian wondered for a second if classes at university were going to get cancelled because of the sheer amount of snow that was falling from the sky. 

“If you are not uncomfortable with the idea, we could go to my flat instead.” 

He instantly regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth. He barely knows Roger, for all he knows the other boy might be a serial killer waiting for just the right opportunity to claim his next victim. But when he turns to look at Roger the blond looks at the verge of tears at the proposal. 

“Are you sure you won’t mind?” 

Brian smiles, “Don’t worry about it. You can stay at my place tonight, or until the storm passes.” 

Roger lounges at Brian and envelops him in a hug, the taller man stumbles back before he manages to awkwardly pat Roger’s back in return. Roger squeezes him one last time before letting him go, “I could literally kiss you right now. I would rather  _ die  _ than walk back to my flat.” 

Brian starts walking towards his flat and Roger walks beside him, “I hope you don’t mind sleeping in too big pyjamas.” 

Roger shook his head, “Just like I like them.” 

They stumble to the flat shivering and trying to keep the conversation going regardless of their chattering teeth. Brian has never been happier to step into their crappy old building as he was in that moment, the corridors are badly lit, the walls are stained and the carpet smells suspiciously of weed; but they are warm enough for them not to feel like absolute death as they climbed the steps. 

Brian fumbles with his keys, numb fingers clumsy, and takes at least two minutes to open the door. Once they are inside Roger sighs contently with the heat coming from the old fireplace and starts to take off his clothes. He looks about to say something when Brian turns and puts a finger against his lips. He hopes the faint light is enough for the younger boy to see him. 

Roger closes his mouth, “Flatmates?” 

Brian nods and takes off his boots and coat. They spend a couple of minutes undressing until they were both in their jeans, shirts, and socks. He made a motion for Roger to follow him into his room and the other boy followed. He flicked the light on and went straight to his closet grabbing a pyjama for himself and a pyjama for Roger. He tossed the clothes to the younger man and he caught it with ease. 

“I’ll go change in the bathroom,” Brian opened the door and left Roger alone in the room. He walked over to their shared bathroom and got ready for bed. He took longer than usual, taking his time to get back into the room with Roger. He had basically invited a stranger over to sleep at his place, not only sleep at his place but at his bed, since he couldn’t exactly explain to Freddie and John why his supposed boyfriend was sleeping on their couch. 

He dragged his hands over his face, “What are you doing, Brian?” 

His reflection, thankfully, didn’t answer him; and after he splashed some cold water over his pale skin Brian squared his shoulders and went to the room. Knocking first before hearing the soft ‘ _ Come in _ ’ from Roger’s voice. 

“Hey,” he whispered as he opened the door. Roger was sitting on his bed, looking ridiculously small with the enormous pyjama that Brian had lent him. He smiled as the taller man entered the room, looking up from his phone. “I hope you don’t mind having to sleep with me.” 

Roger shrugged, “The bed is big enough.” 

Brian nodded, reaching into his closet once again and tossing Roger a charger for his phone. The boy looked at Brian with grateful eyes, “You don’t need to charge yours?” 

Brian shook his head, “I’m home, with all the people who would probably text me, and with no classes until noon.” 

“Thank you so much,” Roger said, “I mean it. Not many people would do what you did for me tonight.” 

“Yeah well,” Brian scratched the back of his neck nervously, “I have to take care of you. Who else will get me out of the hole I literally dug myself into by pretending to be my boyfriend.” 

Roger laughed, clamping a hand over his mouth to avoid making the amount of noise necessary to wake up the two other people in the flat, “Do they know about our arrangement?” 

“Who?” Brian asked, “My flatmates?” 

Roger nodded. 

“No,” Brian ran a hand through his messy hair, “that’s also kind of the reason why I can’t let you sleep on the couch.” 

“Oh,” Roger clambered over the bed towards the power outlet and connected his phone, “so they are some of the people we have to convince about our fake relationship?” 

He nodded, “The people we have to be the most believable too.” 

Brian walked over to the bed and lifted the covers. They were heavy and warm, for a second he wondered if Roger would mind sleeping with so much weight on top of him, but then the smaller man smiled, “Oh you have no idea of how scared I was that you were going to turn out to be one of those weird people that sleep with only one blanket.” 

“You get cold easily?” 

“Very,” the blond answered, “I love sleeping with a thousand blankets.” 

“Well, it seems to be your lucky day.” 

Roger laughed again and got under the covers, squirming a little before settling in a comfortable position. Brian followed suit after turning the light off and soon they found their faces centimeters apart. Brian smiled at Roger, and he returned the smile. 

“Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight,  _ boyfriend. _ ” 

“Oh please, don’t remind me.” 

The other man laughed. 

* * *

 

The morning actually starts amazing. Brian wakes up feeling warm and fuzzy, he feels the soft light coming from outside his window, the warmth of his blankets and a soft pillow underneath his head. He cracks his neck and opens his eyes, only to find that the soft pillow he had been sleeping on has Roger’s legs, and the other man was currently browsing his phone, seemingly unaffected by the breach of personal space. 

Roger looks down once he notices Brian is awake and he smiles, “Morning. Your bed is the most amazing piece of furniture ever.” 

Brian snorts and tries to roll away as nonchalantly as possible. He sits up and reaches for his phone, checking the time and the large alert set on his phone screen along with the 3% battery still left on his phone. 

**_All university students must stay home due to the snow storm_ **

Brian only manages  _ not  _ to pump his fist into the air only because it would require to much energy which he still doesn’t have because of the lack of morning coffee. He turns to Roger with sleepy eyes, “Coffee?” 

“That would be great.”

Brian stretches his arms, trying to get himself to wake up as much as possible and finds that Roger is already fixing his hair on the closet mirror. The younger boy catches his eye, “Hey, before we go out.”

“Mhmm?” 

“What are the boundaries?” 

Brian frowns, “Boundaries?”

Roger turns to look at him and nods, “Well, you know, we have to pretend to be boyfriends. Boyfriends kiss, hold hands, and hug each other.” 

“Oh.”  _ Boundaries.  _ There is a long silence in which Brian tries to make his sleep addled brain cooperate with him, and they he looks at Roger. “Everything but kisses in the mouth I guess.” 

Roger nods content with the answer, “Will they believe it?” 

Brian shrugs, and fiddles with the hair tie on his wrist before pulling his hair into a ponytail, “They don’t know what I am like in a relationship. They can’t be suspicious.” 

Roger frowned, “Never had a serious boyfriend before?” 

Brian felt a small lump form in his throat and he cleared it before speaking, “Yeah, something like that.” 

He stood up from the bed, finally awake enough to actually walk out of the room, and opened the door. Roger followed closely behind, trying to make his system relax. The rest of the house was illuminated softly by the light streaming through the windows, and the entire house was warm and cozy because of the lit fire in the fireplace. There was soft music coming from the kitchen and short bursts of laughter and random singing. 

Brian rolled his eyes. It was  _ The White Stripes _ , again. 

“Oh, Brian, you woke up just in time!” Freddie can’t see them yet, only hear the door open and the creak of the wood under their feet. Brian’s palms start to sweat. “Do you want coffee or chocolate, dear? We made both.” 

Brian rounds the corner into the kitchen and smiles shyly at both of his roommates. They are about to start talking again when Roger rounds the corner, walking up to Brian and putting his chin on the taller man’s shoulder. Brian knows that he had agreed to that kind of touching before leaving the bedroom, but he still can’t help but tense up at the sudden contact from the younger boy. 

Roger wraps his arms around Brian’s stomach and he has to restrain himself from patting them awkwardly.

“I’d like coffee, please.” He turns towards Brian, “And you?” 

The older man shrugs, “Coffee is fine.” 

John and Freddie are gaping like fish, looking at Roger like he was some extraterrestrial being or something equally weird. Brian doesn’t know if he feels insulted by the gesture or not. Still, his friends’ round eyes and open mouth are enough for Brian to snicker, oh he is definitely going to have some fun with this. 

“What? Cat got your tongue?” 

The spell is broken by Freddie, who raises his eyebrows,”Bloody hell, he actually exists.” 

Roger laughs at Freddie’s reaction and lets go of Brian’s hand to walk over and shake his roommates’ hands. John shakes Roger’s hand dumbfoundedly, though Brian think that maybe John had started to exaggerate his reaction to laugh at Brian’s expense, and Freddie shoves Roger’s hand apart and pulls him into a hug. 

“Welcome to the Queen household, darling.” Freddie said, “So you said coffee, right?”

Brian shot Roger an apologetic look as Freddie dragged him away and started to excitedly talk to him. John and him were left at the entrance of the kitchen and the bassist gave Brian a cheeky smile, “Not bad.” 

Brian blushed and John joined Freddie in his interrogation of poor Roger, who had probably been on Tinder for the sole purpose of having a good time. Now he was in the middle of a kitchen in a strange house, talking to two strangers that he barely knew the name too, while Freddie twirled a blonde lock of his hair between his fingers. Brian ran his hands over his face and stepped into the kitchen. 

“Okay, that’s enough, leave poor Roger alone.” 

Freddie dropped Roger’s hair and and turned towards Brian, “I’m just trying to get to know him, darling. You have been keeping him a secret.” 

“It was a mutual agreement,” Roger defended Brian. 

“Well, I’m glad that’s over now, you are quite a sight for sore eyes,” Freddie stepped away from the younger boy and grabbed a cup from the cupboard, “Tell me darling, do you play any instruments?” 

Roger beamed, “The drums, and a little bit of guitar, but mostly drums.” 

“And do you sing?” 

“Oh, yes, I lead when my other bandmates are missing.” 

Freddie’s eyebrows shot up, smirk forming on his lips, “Well, I can certainly see why you got Brimi’s attention. Quite the catch.” 

Whatever conversation they were having was cut off when in the middle of a song an urgent announcement from the radio announcer came on. Freddie frowned, turning the volume up and staring at the ugly, black, thing. 

“—storm is not due to pass in at least the next fifteen hours. Roads all around the country are shut down and people are being warned against going out, for the visibility is terrible and the cold is bound to cause accidents for those out and about without the proper clothes.” 

_ Oh, great,  _ Brian thought,  _ what’s next? A power outage?  _

“The authorities are not sure whether this will cause any problems with other basic systems, but we have been asked to warn the listeners not to freak out in case of any water or pow-” 

The radio crackled and died, as did every single electronic in the house. The soft buzz of electricity that usually surrounded them was cut off and Brian had to summon every drop of self-control not to scream in frustration, he had totally jinxed them. Freddie started laughing and he clapped Roger in the shoulder, the younger man winced, “Well, it looks like we are going to have the most unusual first-meeting-story.” 

The blond turned to look at Brian and the guitarist wanted to be swallowed by the ground, “Oh, it does seem like it.” 

* * *

“How was I supposed to know that we would end up in this mess?” Brian whispered at Roger, who was sat on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. 

“God damn it,” the blond mumbled, “I know it was not your fault, I just really want someone to blame.” 

Brian leaned against the door, arms crossed over his chest and hair still tied in the messiest bun he had ever made in his entire life. In his defense, however, he was quite stressed— he didn’t have time to make perfect buns, “I know.” 

Roger peaked at Brian through his fingers, looking like a five year old being scolded by his parents, “How are we supposed to pull this off, Brian?” 

“Well, first of all, stop calling me Brian.” 

“What?” Roger snapped back, “you want me to call you ‘baby’ instead?” 

Brian sighed, “No, Roger, but nobody calls their boyfriend by their first name.” 

“Fine, deal, I will call you Bri— or something. But then you can’t call me Roger.” 

“Deal, Roggie.” 

“Oh god,” Roger groaned, “please don’t.” 

Brian snickered, grateful for the lightening of the mood, “Okay, that’s settled. Now, our relationship can easily be avoided as a conversation topic if you make Freddie and John talk about their relationship.” 

Roger scrunched his nose, “Are they those kind of people?” 

“Only when provoked.” 

Brian was about to say something when a light knock came from the door, followed by Freddie’s voice, “Are you dressed?” 

Brian’s cheeks flushed, and he stepped away from the door, “Yes.” 

Freddie opened it and looked inside with a sweet smile, “I know there is nothing to do in this kind of conditions so I brought out a board game. Would you care to join?” 

It didn’t take much convincing, just a glance from Roger that told Brian that the conversation was not over, and a kind smile towards Freddie. They ended up huddled beside the fireplace, with soft music coming from one of the boys’ phones, while playing a game of scrabble. Not that Brian particularly enjoyed the game but that was most definitely better than doing nothing apart from getting into fights with Roger. 

They talked, they laughed, they sang songs, and by the end of the third hour he found that Roger seemed to fit into their small group of three almost perfectly. He had even forgotten the strange circumstances of how he got acquainted with the drummer, until they started to talk about relationships. 

By then Roger had already moved from practically a foot apart to being a centimeter away from sitting on Brian’s lap. He was laying his head against the guitarist’s shoulder and Brian had to often remind himself that the usually unwanted contact couldn’t be denied. Roger was supposed to be his  _ boyfriend _ . 

“So tell us,” John said after five hours skirting around the topic, “how did you and Brian meet?” 

He felt Roger smile against his shoulder, a small giggle escaping his lips, and Brian couldn’t help but mimic the action at the though of the story they had previously come up with.

“Well, it’s actually kind of a funny story.” 

Brian shook his head, “It’s ridiculous, Roggie. Who eats that at two in the morning in the tube?”

“Who helps a stranger with bloody hands?” 

They glare at each other for a few seconds before Roger smirks and playfully shoves his shoulder. He looks beautiful like that, all smiley and mischievous and Brian thinks,  _ yeah, I could definitely get used to having him around forever.  _ Before he realizes that that probably won’t be the case. Roger would probably won’t hang around for more than necessary. 

_ Well then,  _ Brian thinks,  _ I’ll just have to enjoy it while it lasts.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m a slut for kudos and comments


	5. cannot even win at dice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a conversation and a slight change in plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I hope you don't mind my double update! I just really liked this chapter and It gives foot to the real problem of the story. 
> 
> As always, I hope not to dissapoint! 
> 
> I wrote this chapter listening to "The Origin of Love" and "Happy Ending", both by MIKA.

**Somehow, after hours of playing scrabble** , and then at least three or four rounds of Uno, the only ones left awake were Roger and John. 

John because he can’t physically sleep once the sun is up and the world is awake; and Roger because he feels out of place by sleeping in a stranger’s house when it’s not strictly necessary. They had been talking for at least thirty minutes now, about the morning, the weather, the university, and Roger found that this pretend game they were playing wouldn’t be so hard. 

Brian shifted in his sleep, unconsciously nuzzling into Roger’s shoulder. John shot him a soft smile, “I’m glad he found you. He seems to really like you.” 

“Does he?” Roger looked at Brian’s curly mop of hair and allowed himself to do something he wanted to do since he had seen Brian’s profile on Tinder. He pressed his lips to the top of Brian’s head lightly. His hair was softer that Roger had imagined, and he smiled privately for himself before turning back to John. 

“Yeah,” John said smiling at his sleeping friend, “especially with Brian’s background.” 

Roger frowned, “What do you mean?’ 

John made a face, “Well, I don’t want to be the one telling you this but-” 

“Yes?” Roger asked once John stopped talking. 

“Well, let's say that I wouldn’t be surprised if you were his first kiss.” 

“Oh,” Roger said, trying to store the information somewhere, planning to ask Brian about the comment made by his flatmate. “Well, I guess that’s just part of his charm, isn’t it?” 

John smiled, “I guess it is.” 

Roger was quick to change the topic, he started to interrogate John about his relationship with the dark-haired boy and John’s eyes sparkled. He talked about Freddie, and their first meeting, which was coincidentally through Brian, and how Freddie, ever the ridiculous according to John, had insisted in stalking John until he could find any possible moment to speak with the younger man. 

He laughed when John recounted the moment in which Freddie revealed he was five years older than him, and how the older man, desperate to be with John, had promised not to do anything with the younger man until he was a legal adult. 

“So you are telling me you are seventeen years old?” 

“Like you are any older!” 

“But you are in university, are you not?” 

John nodded, looking quite proud of himself, “Graduated at sixteen and got a full ride for my first two semesters.” 

Roger raised his eyebrows, “So I’m talking with quite the genius.” 

John snorted, “A genius would know better than getting involved with these two idiots.” 

“They don’t seem that bad,” Roger said, looking at Freddie who was asleep in John’s lap while the brunette played with his hair. 

John laughed, “Oh, that’s just because you haven’t lived with them.” 

That made Roger laugh, and John followed, once they both stopped the blond looked around the room. There were pictures of them all around the small room. Some of them from when they were little boys, others from things that looked like camping trips or other adventures that the three boys had gone off too. But mostly, all the pictures were of them playing their instruments and singing. 

The pictures varied in positions and emotions, in some they looked like they were having the time of their life. In others they looked extremely concentrated on their individual activities. But what Roger noticed about most of them was that the drummer seemed to change in every picture. Sometimes he was a burly man with wild hair, and other times it was a thin girl with a near bald head. That seemed to be the only constant in the pictures, their constant change of drummer. 

“Do you like them?” 

Roger nodded, “Are they taken with a professional camera?” 

“We have a friend who owns one. He used to be part of the band but then he left.” John scratched his nose before continuing, “He still comes to all our gigs, and takes our pictures, but we are not as good friends as we were before.” 

“I can imagine,” Roger said, “Was he the drummer?” 

John smiled cheekily, “No, he was the bassist. I’m actually pretty happy he left.” 

Roger laughed again, “So you have no drummer?” 

“Nope,” John stroked Freddie’s hair one last time before reaching for a cushion, “We change for every gig. We are trying to find a permanent one, though.” 

John carefully lifted Freddie’s head and placed the cushion in replacement for his lap. Roger smiled at the tenderness that the bassist was handling Freddie with. He then turned to Roger, “You want me to help you with Brian?” 

“Where are we going?” 

John pointed to the kitchen, “To make lunch. I’m getting hungry.” 

Roger nodded and soon both of the sleeping boys were laid on the floor, John and Roger headed towards the kitchen. John ordered Roger around, giving him tasks to do as he talked about his story with Freddie. Roger listened intently and soon found that he was as invested in the story as John was in telling it. They only managed to burn themselves thrice, twice by turning on the stove and once by being too talkative and being distracted by their chat. 

“And your parents?” Roger asked as he stuffed one of the strawberries that he had just cleaned into his mouth, “What do they say about Freddie and Brian?” 

John froze for a second, and the atmosphere changed. Roger instantly felt like he had crossed a line, like he had said something he shouldn’t have. John shrugged, and the boy, who had previously been so talkative, shut off. Only giving Roger commands on what to do with the plates or some ingredients of the dishes. 

Roger had never wanted for snow to melt as much as he did at that moment. The younger boy seemed distant, like Roger’s words had sent him back in time. Guilt was overwhelming Roger. 

“I’m sorry,” Roger said once they were both quietly waiting for the water to boil, “I didn’t mean to pry.” 

John shrugged again, never meeting Roger’s eyes, “It’s fine. You couldn’t have known.” 

They settled into the awkward silence once again, and Roger was so desperate to change topic or regain the easy comradery they had been developing that he was ready to start talking about boiling water. But in the end it wasn’t Roger who ended up breaking the silence. 

“But if you do want to know,” John started, “I think I might be happier with this made up family than with my blood one.” 

Roger smiled, “Yeah, I get the feeling.” 

John nodded, “Make sure the water doesn’t boil over. I’m going to wake up the sleeping beauties.” 

Roger was left alone in the kitchen, stirring the pot of water and thinking about their conversation. He ran John’s words in his head over and over, thinking about what they had meant. Well, he knew what they meant, but John seemed to be such a sweet and intelligent boy that Roger couldn’t help but feel like the brunette didn’t deserve the fate he had. He couldn’t imagine how anyone’s parents would be cruel enough to kick a kid out of their house from something as natural as love. 

His thoughts were cut short when chatter filled the house. He couldn’t quite make out the words but he knew by the tone, and the laughter that followed, that the topic at hand was most definitely  _ not  _ the awkward conversation he had just had with John. 

The bassist came back smiling and laughing at something the other boys had said, and his smile didn’t waver when he saw Roger, he just made a sign for him to leave, “I’ll finish this. Go with your boy.” 

“Thanks, John.” 

John shook his head, “It’s always nice having someone to help me. I wouldn’t mind this becoming a habit.” 

The part that stung Roger the most was that he didn’t have to come up with a lie, “I wouldn’t mind it either.” 

He walked out of the kitchen and found Freddie and Brian setting up the table. He smiled, asking if he could do anything to help. To which Freddie replied that his only job for now was to sit and look pretty for Brian. 

Once they were all settled around the table, eating and talking, Roger remembered the original reason why he and Brian had gotten into this mess. He looked around the table and prayed for every known god and force that this mess would be fixed sooner rather than later. Roger knew that if he were to become to close with the three other men in the room saying goodbye would be too hard once Brian inevitably told him that it was over. 

“So, what happened to the Christmas dinner now that we are locked inside?” 

Brian and John turned to look at Freddie expectantly, and the older man just cleared his throat before speaking, “Well I talked to Phoebe about it and since next Friday is nearly impossible for everyone to attend-” 

“And the Friday after that we have our exams.” John pipped in. 

Freddie nodded, “Then we have to do it three Fridays from now.” 

Roger tried to hide his dread, and managed it pretty well, even managed to sound excited when Freddie invited him over to the coffee shop he was working at to get to hang out for a couple of hours. He didn’t meet Brian’s eyes for the rest of the meal, and something told him that even if he had tried Brian would have the same plans in mind. 

Roger saw his opening to talk with Brian privately once the older boy announced he was going to his bedroom to take another nap. Roger followed him, having to hike up the pants he was wearing every few steps to avoid them from falling to the floor. 

Once in the room he found Brian with his head in his hands, he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “Brian?” 

The older boy looked up and sighed, “Rog I-- look I get it if you want to walk out right now. I know this must be three times as uncomfortable for you as it is for me.” 

Roger had come into the room wanting to stage a fight with Brian, something that could make the start of the end of their relationship. Some loud screams, maybe even a door slam, to alert Freddie and John about the development. But when he saw Brian’s mortified eyes, his too soft hair, and the way his lips were pursed in expectation of what was about to happen, Roger couldn’t do it. 

Roger couldn’t stop the friendship when it had barely begun. Not when Brian was looking at him with those beautiful hazel eyes of his. 

“I mean I would love too, but I kind of have a date with Freddie next week, and I really don’t want to seem rude.” 

Brian’s eyes widened in surprise. 

“Also, I really wanted to get to know Deacy better. He seems like a nice chap.” 

Before Roger was even done talking Brian was already standing up and walking towards him. 

“And of course, I really want to get to know you.” 

Brian’s arms were skinny, but Roger melted into the hug. He laid his head on Brian’s shoulder like he had done that morning and hugged Brian back. 

“Don’t get too excited, though,” Roger said, “Our date would only be for research purposes.” 

Brian laughed, the vibrations shaking Roger and the sound making him dizzy with the realization that Brian’s laugh was extremely beautiful. 

“Thank you, Roger.” 

Standing there, enveloped in Brian’s arms, Roger wondered if he would have actually had the courage to tell Brian that he didn’t want to keep being his pretend boyfriend. He even wondered if he had ever wanted to tell him in the first place. If he ever wanted to stop being Brian’s fake boyfriend at all.

Maybe, just  _ maybe _ , he didn’t want too. 

“You are welcome,  _ boyfriend. _ ” 

That comment made Brian laugh again and Roger smiled, no longer hoping for the snow to melt. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a slut for comments and feedback! 
> 
> Also, swing by [my tumblr (@iamnotbrianmay)](https://iamnotbrianmay.tumblr.com/)and say hi!


	6. as for watches, i dont use one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens, and Roger regrets many life choices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I hope you like this chapter because I realised that last chapter was definetly NOT a good segway into what's happening here. I was just trying not to give away too much of why Roger stumbled into Brian's profile and I realised way to late that I hadn't included ENOUGH. I try to make up for it tho. 
> 
> Leave me your thoughts!

**_Mercury:_ ** _ sorry for taking so long  _

**_Mercury:_ ** _ my boss can be a bitch sometimes _

Roger chuckled and shut the phone off. He took a long drag from his electric cigarette, letting the raspberry taste linger in his mouth before exhaling. A little kid shot him a glare from the other side of the courtyard and Roger couldn’t help but feel a little bit guilty. He didn’t stop though, he just made a smoke ring the next time the kid caught him smoking. 

The blond boy’s glare lessened and guilt hit Roger like a train. He quickly stuffed his cigarette in his pocket and took his phone, checking if Freddie had finished his shift already. 

“Has anyone ever told you how ridiculously  _ white  _ you look when you some an electric cigarette?” 

Roger looked up and found Freddie staring down at him, smirking, “Seriously Roger, you could at least strive to be a little more than a basic white girl.” 

Roger rolled his eyes and smiled, “What if I don’t?” 

“Your loss, I guess.” Freddie, shrugged and sat on the chair in front of Roger. “So tell me darling, how well can you drum?” 

“Straight to the point?” 

Freddie nodded and Roger smiled, thanking god for phones, and took out the three hundred different videos of himself drumming. He even showed Freddie the ones were he messed up, the ones were he messed around with well known solos, and the ones were he had to stop playing because of his drumsticks snapping in half or flying off. 

He was not perfect, far from it actually. But he knew he was good. A few more years of drumming and maybe he could even get to be  _ great,  _ which was Roger’s wet dream ever since he had started drumming. He had tried so hard to get somewhere, and he had been getting with his current band, but something just told him that maybe the band wasn’t going to be the timeless wonder he was hoping they could get to be. 

“Are you free?” Freddie asked, locking Roger’s phone, “I mean, are you band-less?” 

He grimaced, “No, but I wouldn’t mind leaving, if that’s your next question.” 

“What’s the name of your band?” 

Roger took his Juul out, taking a drag before answering Freddie. Ready for the mocking he dejectedly answered, “ _ Humpy Bong.” _

Freddie, bless his soul, didn’t laugh. Or well he tried to, until Roger told him it was okay to laugh. He, too,  _ hated  _ the name Tim had picked for them at the beginning of the band. 

“Can you imagine my face when he told me?” Roger complained, “No one will take us seriously, yet he seems to believe that a name like  _ Humpy Bong  _ can make it to the Billboard Hot 100.” 

Freddie laughed at Roger’s misfortune, and kept laughing when he told him about the other member of the band wholeheartedly agreeing with Tim about the name of the band. 

“And the worst part? After having to stand being known as Roger Taylor for  _ Humpy Bong  _ and playing songs that, I honest to god, could play in my sleep, they have the audacity to, you know, sneakily imply that they have found a better drummer. A guy named Colin Petersen or something like that-- I really don’t care. I just want the asshat gone.” 

Freddie grew quiet and serious, for a second Roger was afraid that this Colin whatever was a friend of Freddie’s, but then the older man surprised him, “Would you mind playing with a band called  _ Queen _ ?” 

Roger blinked. 

Maybe the cold was affecting his ability to process information. Or maybe he had ordered a pod for his Juul with something other than nicotine. But Freddie looked deadly serious, and Roger wondered if that was what a miracle looked like. 

“You have heard our songs, haven’t you?” 

Roger thumbed his cellphone wondering if Freddie had somehow looked through his phone and found the excited text he had sent his sister when he saw Brian’s profile on Tinder. Or his embarrassing playlist made up of Queen’s only album,  _ Smile _ , titled ‘<3’. 

Or even worse, Roger worried that the older man had somehow found out that the reason he had started liking Queen was because Mr Lee, otherwise known as Roger’s godfather, had taken Roger to his bar to watch the performance of  one of his bartenders. Roger had fallen in love, and had done his fair share of stalking, until he had stumbled with Brian’s profile  _ by accident. _

“How did you know?” 

Freddie shrugged, “Light stalking is one of my passions, darling.” 

Roger grimaced for the second time that day, “Don’t tell Brian.” 

Freddie made a cross on top of his heart, “My mouth is shut, I promise.” 

He relaxed, leaning on the table and looking at Freddie with a small smile, “I didn’t know you were looking for a drummer.” 

He lied, even though he had clearly heard Deacy said otherwise. But other than that he had honestly never thought about Queen needing a drummer. Or well, maybe he hadn’t been paying enough attention. With his sole focus being the guitarist he had hardly ever paid attention to the other members of the band, so little in fact that he had almost forgotten about Freddie and John the night that Brian had brought him back to their apartment.  

“Well,” Freddie took the Juul that Roger had left on the table and took a drag, “our drummers are good, but their not  _ unique,  _ you know?” 

Roger nodded, and Freddie kept talking, “Kelly tends to repeat herself a lot when writing songs and Richie, well, I can’t have someone who keeps asking me if I like what they are doing every five seconds.” 

“So you want a new drummer?” Roger asked. 

“Yes,” Freddie said, “Someone with spark.” 

Any other moment, any other time, Roger would have jumped at the idea of joining a decent band like Queen. Of finally making enough money out off ad revenue and spotify streams to afford a new sweater. Of being recognised as Roger Taylor of Queen rather than Roger Taylor of Humpy Bong. But in his current situation he could very clearly see why he couldn’t do that. Why he couldn’t scream at Freddie for being the best person in the planet. 

That prospect alone, the idea of not being able to be part of Queen because he had first thought about getting into Brian’s pants, nearly made him cry. 

He had already been feeling guilty about what he had been doing three days ago when Brian had told him that the dinner wouldn’t be for another three weeks. He had been so ready to cut off things before they got too out of hand and his infatuation for the guitarist became something a little bit more tangible than just a post on instagram, but when Brian looked at him with those hazel eyes of his and sad smile Roger couldn’t help but be selfish. And here he was again, being selfish and an overall shitty person. 

“What about Brian and me?” 

Freddie raised his eyebrows, “What about it?” 

“Wouldn’t it be a problem?” He knew it was a stupid question the moment it left his mouth, Freddie and John were together and as far as he knew they were dating. 

The problem, however, was that he and Brian weren’t dating. Just pretending. 

“Ridiculous,” Freddie answered, “I’m not that much of a hypocrite.”  

There was a second of silence and then the older man continued, “But, if it worries you that much, we can always have a band meeting.” 

Roger nodded, relieved at the prospect of a band meeting, knowing that Brian was sure to shoot down any ridiculous idea that Freddie proposed. Freddie’s smile widened, and he was quick to fish out his phone and start typing in what Roger believed to be a group chat. He took his phone out and quickly texted Brian. 

**_Taylor:_ ** _ i think we may have a problem _

He expectantly watched as Brian’s status changed from  _ last seen 11:45 am  _ to  _ online  _ and then to  _ typing… _

**_May:_ ** _ What happened? _

Roger tries to explain the situation as fast as he can, but the numbness of his fingers from the cold and the pressure of Freddie talking to Roger again and making him stop typing is too much. He barely manages a coherent message, to which Brian replies; 

**_May:_ ** _ What?  _

Before typing a much more eloquent,  

**_May:_ ** _ Oh, I understand now. That’s definitely not good. _

Roger groans in frustration, “Seriously, will Brian  _ ever  _ stop texting with perfect grammar?” 

Freddie looks up from his phone, dark hair framing his face and rolls his eyes, “It’s infuriating, isn't it?” 

“Really fucking so,” Roger vents, “I almost expect him to sign his  _ name _ at the end of every text. It’s like I’m trying to date my  _ grandpa _ .” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t be surprised if he ever did that,” Freddie mumbled, “that’s why I refuse to let him anywhere near our instagram posts.” 

**_May:_ ** _ Sent 1 Photo _

**_May:_ ** _ Definitely not good. _

Roger opens the image wearily and nearly groans when he reads the text messages that Brian had screenshotted. It was a conversation in, what Roger assumed, was Queen’s group chat. Freddie said something about having found their permanent drummer, John asking if he had finally managed to convince Roger to be part of their group, and then dozens of emojis once Freddie replied that, yes, he had convinced Roger to join them. 

**_May:_ ** _ What should we do? _

Roger bit his lip. 

**_Taylor:_ ** _ whens the next gig _

**_Taylor:_ ** _??? _

Brian went offline and Roger had to convince himself not to scream in annoyance. He put down his phone, not before turning on the notifications for when Brian decided to text him back and looked at Freddie, who was staring at him with joy in his eyes. 

“They said yes!” 

Roger had to feign excitement, “Holy shit! They said yes?” 

Freddie nodded, “The next gig is so far away Roger, we will have time to rehearse, get to know each other more-- God this couldn’t be more perfect.” 

Roger smiled, “When’s the gig?” 

Freddie frowned, staying quiet for a second before answering, “The Sunday after our Christmas dinner.” 

The monkey part of Roger’s brain started chanting about the plan he had been brewing ever since he had laid eyes in Brian.  _ Seduce him _ , it screamed,  _ make him fall in love with you and never leave your side.  _

The rational part just sighed sadly. He knew this was wrong. He knew that in many ways this was like a musician’s worst nightmare. To have a creepy random dude who was unhealthily obsessed with your guitar skills try to be your significant other sounded like hell. Even more so when the person had been  _ lying  _ about never having heard of the band in his life. 

He smiled at Freddie as gleefully as he could and then excused himself to make a call. He had made up his mind the moment he clicked on Brian’s contact name and pressed call. Roger would just have to appreciate the three weeks ahead of him before he never saw Brian or any of the other members of Queen again. 

“The gig is after the Christmas dinner.” 

Roger smirked, “I know, and that gave me the best idea I have had in awhile.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Mhm,” Roger hummed, “Brian, babe, how into the idea of making a terribly big scene in front of your friends are you?” 

Brian made a noise at the back of his throat, “Not very into the idea if I’m being honest. But then again, when do I ever get the choice to do what I’m comfortable with?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im a slut for comments, kudos, and feedback. Please tell me how you felt about this chapter! 
> 
> I'm not feeling to great about it. 
> 
> Also, please tell me if you like the texting thing, I don't know if it makes the fanfic feel like one of those 2010 cringey wattapd fics with cheesy dialogue and bad writing. 
> 
> (If you haven't noticed, I'm starting to feel a little bit too self consicous about my writing now that I have such a large audience)


	7. to be completely honest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was not betad, all mistakes are mine. 
> 
> I hope you like it, its quite long.

**“Okay,”**  Brian said plopping down on the seat and giving Roger the hot chocolate he had ordered, “We have twenty days from now until the Christmas dinner and we have to make our break up believable. Let’s get planning.”

He typed in the password for his laptop and opened a word document. Brian barely noticed that Roger had not answered until the screen of his computer was pushed down slightly, “Mate, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What?”

Roger rolled his eyes and started taking off his gloves, “I can’t believe you are going to _plan_ everything.”

Brian huffed in annoyance, “Well, Rog, if I don’t we might end up forgetting or messing things up. Or do you want me to remind you of the Nutella incident?”

Roger visibly shivered, and Brian wasn’t kin on remembering their slip earlier that week, their near disaster that would have inevitably ended with them looking like utter buffoons. Brian cracked his neck, trying to lessen his embarrassment. Yes, that was definitely a story for another time when the pressure of nailing this thing wasn’t upon them.  

“Okay, fine, have it your way, nerd.” Roger said as he took out his cigarette, Brian glared at him for taking the ugly thing out in the middle of a crowded restaurant with children all around them.

“Any ideas with how to start?”

Roger shrugged, “Maybe we could just get you drunk and leave you like that on their doorstep.”

Brian made a face, “It’s not a bad idea, actually.”

“Are you kidding me?” Roger said, “It’s terrible, I don’t know what kind of drunk you are! What if you snitch on us?”

“I won’t snitch,” Brian said indignantly, “but I _will_ write that idea down because it’s _not_ stupid.”

“Fine,” Roger scoffed, “what do you have in mind?”

Brian shrugged, “Maybe I could cheat on you or something.”

“No,” Roger said, “they won’t buy that. Make _me_ cheat on _you_.”

“No,” Brian replied, “I won’t do that to you.”

Roger let out an irritated sigh, “Why are you making it so difficult to break up?”

“Because,” Brian tried to explain, but his mind was blank for a few seconds, “It should be believable!”

“And cheating isn’t a good excuse to break up?”

“Not if it hurts you!”

Roger gave a strangled scream, “God your so infuriatingly polite.”

“I try to be!”

Silence settled between both of them, they looked around, trying not to meet each other’s eyes as they calmed down. Roger took a drag from his cigarette and used his shirt to cover up the smoke he blew. Brian eyed him curiously, wondering if it was rude to ask for a drag. He had always been curious about the cigarettes. Roger caught him staring.

“Bad habit,” Roger admitted, “I know, even more so for a person who sings, but everything is better than the real ones.”

“You used to smoke a lot?”

Rogger nodded and took another drag, “Started out pretty young. Now that I think about it it’s embarrassing.”

“You are trying to fix it,” Brian offered, “that’s what matters.”

“I guess it is,” Roger replied.

There was another awkward silence in which the nearly blank word document starred back at Brian in accusation. He knew he should have just written ‘Roger cheating’ as an option, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not because he thought it would bother the other man, or because he thought it wouldn’t be a good excuse, but because he couldn’t bring himself to fill that page with tangible, and very valid, excuses to break up with Roger.

In the end Roger broke the silence, he sighed heavily and closed the laptop once again, “We are doing this wrong, Brian.”

The older man frowned, “We are?”

Roger nodded, “We shouldn’t be sitting in a cafe arguing about how we are going to break up before we even _hang out_ properly.”

“Rog, that makes no sense.”

“Of course it does,” the blond argued, “we can’t properly stage a break up if we don’t even know each other.”

“Why not?”

Roger took a sip from his chocolate, mulling over his options before saying something under his breath. Brian couldn’t catch it, but before he could ask what Roger had said, the blond spoke up, “What if I want to know you before we break up?”

Brian froze for a second, looking at Roger with wide eyes. Every moment without an answer Roger’s eyes started to fill with regret. Brian could see it, the way his sudden bravado started to dim, giving way to uncertainty.  
Roger started to get up, gathering his gloves and warm cup of chocolate, but Brian was faster. He grabbed Roger’s wrist, which looked ridiculously thin compared to the thick wool sweater he was wearing. He stared at the younger man for a few seconds, admiring how his long hair framed his face and his blue eyes looked at Brian expectantly. He looked like an angel dressed in the white sweater, Brian notes, and finally snapped out of his haze.

“What do you have in mind, Rog?”

The younger man smiles tentatively and Brian feels his butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

* * *

 

“Farrokh Bulsara, I can’t believe you actually wore every single one of my decent shirts and then forgot to wash them!”

“Don’t ‘ _Farrokh Bulsara_ ’ me, darling,” Freddie snapped back, “and, mind you, it’s not _my_ fault the power was out and we couldn’t do laundry!”  

“That was five days ago Freddie!”

Brian felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned around, John was holding a white button up shirt in his hand, “Take this, you’ll look nice.”

“That’s my special shirt, John!”

The younger man glared at his boyfriend, “I know.”

Brian grabbed the shirt, putting it on while glaring at Freddie, and then rolled the sleeves up when he realised that they looked ridiculously small on his long arms. He tucked the shirt into his pants and went into the bathroom too look at himself in the mirror.

He looked-- decent.

White shirt and shoes, black pants, curly hair recently washed and fluffed by the three hundred chemicals that Freddie had insisted on putting on his hair. He even had the thick, black, leather wristbands that covered his pale wrists.

Yes, he actually didn’t look bad at all.

He stepped out and jokingly obliged to Freddie’s request of showing off his outfit. The three men laughed when he struck a ridiculous pose, and then grew quiet once Brian’s phone dinged. He picked it up nervously, and saw that Roger had sent him the location of the club he had chosen for their night out.

“It’s not that far away,” Freddie noted. “We could walk with you if you want too.”

 _Yes, please, do so,_ Brian wanted to scream, _I have never been this nervous in my entire life._

But he knew that he shouldn’t show them his real feelings, according to their knowledge this was far from Brian’s first date with Roger. He wanted to hit himself in the face, but instead just smiled and shook his head.

“I’m fine, guys,” He hugged John, and then turned to Freddie, “thank you for the shirt.”

Freddie laughed, “You look good, darling.”

The older man kissed Brian’s cheek, before wishing him a good night, and then Brian was off. He bundled himself inside his thick winter coat and walked over to the promised club. He was there in less than fifteen minutes, and blushed when he was that Roger had been waiting for him outside the place, smoking an electronic cigarette.

He smiled once he saw Brian approaching and stuffed the cigarette into his pocket, “You ready?”  

Brian nodded, and Roger turned towards the man at the door, he gave him a small smile and greeted him as he let them pass.

Inside the music was loud enough for Brian and Roger not to hear anything, the lights were dim, the reflectors all around the room were only there for show and colouring. Otherwise, the room was completely black. Brian could see people dancing and milling around, a set of sofas to the side of the club in which at least five couples were snogging their faces off, and a bar with a long line. The four bartenders were struggling to keep up with the rate at which people were ordering their drinks and Brian felt a little bad as Roger grabbed his hand and dragged him towards the bar.

They stayed at the side, waiting for one of the bartenders to notice them. Talking about nothing and everything, and wondering if there was somewhere they could leave their jackets for the night.

“Roger,” one of the people said, “long time no see.”

Roger smiled and turned towards the bartender, a lanky man, almost as tall as Roger, with mismatched eyes and a thin and crooked nose, “Bowie! I didn’t know you would be working tonight!”

The other man, Bowie, raised his eyebrows, “Neither did I, but the water bill came in a little too high this month.”

Roger grimaced, “Tough luck.”

The other man shrugged, “Who’s your friend here?”

Roger turned towards Brian and the guitarist extended his hand, “Brian May.”

Bowie gave him a crooked smile and shook his hand, “David Bowie, please to meet you.”

There was a scream from one of the people working behind the bar and David grimaced, “I have to go, but I’ll get your drinks once I’m free.”

He turned and started walking towards the multitude of people before stopping for a second, “Nearly forgot, Taylor. Your table is number five.”

“Thanks mate!” Roger called back and turned towards Brian. “Let’s go.”

Brian followed Roger pressing up against the younger man’s back to talk to him, “You come here often?”

Roger nodded, “I’m a VIP here.”

They got near a table marked with a sign that read _‘previous reservation’_ and Roger threw his things down on the booth. His thick coat landed on the wooden table then slid down to the ground. Brian chuckled and placed his things carefully, sliding into one side of the booth.

Roger sat down opposite of him, and smiled at Brian, “Nice club, eh?”

Brian couldn’t know, he hadn’t been to many in his years, “Yeah, it’s cool.”

Roger scrunched up his nose, “Aw man, I completely forgot to ask you what you drank. I hope you don’t mind vodka.”

Again, Brian didn’t know what he would like cause he didn’t drink much except for the odd bear that Freddie coaxed him into trying. He shrugged, aiming for nonchalance, “As long as it’s good.”

Roger eyed him with interest, “You aren’t much of a drinker, are you?”

Brian blushed, “That obvious?”

Roger chuckled, “Don’t worry, Freddie made me promise to take care of you.”

He rolled his eyes at the comment, then studied Roger. His long blond hair looked freshly washed, a too big button up shirt like the one Brian was wearing was thrown over black track pants. He looked beautiful, there was no other word to describe it.

“So, the band.”

Roger leaned forward, “We have rehearsal tomorrow, don’t we?”

Brian nodded, “I’m actually looking forward to hearing you play.”

“You might regret that,” Roger said teasingly, “I’ll make them forget you once they hear me drum.”

Brian raised his eyebrows, “Oh, is that so?”

“Yep,” Roger nodded, “you’re good, but you are no Roger Taylor.”

“What you saw me play was nothing,” Brian boasted, “I could play that set with my eyes closed.”

Soon their drinks arrived, and Brian and Roger kept talking. They drank, Roger more liberally than Brian, and they laughed. The guitarist could feel the warmth of alcohol spreading across his body and slurring his words once they got to the fourth glass of what Roger had called a November cocktail.

By the fifth November Roger dragged Brian into the dance floor. He was unsteady on his feet, which even without the alcohol weren’t very coordinated. Roger guided him, placing a hand on his waist and another one on his upper arm. Brian imitated him, and let the younger man guide them across the dance floor.

He let the beat of the music flow into his brain, taking in the one thing which made him feel completely at ease, even if the music wasn’t the usual Nirvana or Jimi Hendrix that blasted through their apartment on the saturday mornings when they have cleaning duty. The beat was constant, the words in a language he couldn’t quite understand, maybe because of the alcohol in his system, maybe because it wasn’t english at all.

It was only after an hour with Roger dancing and talking in the middle of the club, that they finally grew tired. His limbs felt heavy, his eyes were drooping, and Roger was the one that helped him get to the table and put on his coat. They were still talking, giggling every time one of them said or did something stupid. They walked out fifteen minutes later, arm in arm, and heading towards Brian’s flat for the second time that week.

Snow was falling all around them, but for some reason Brian didn’t feel the cold. He could just feel the smaller man pressed to his side, and the wobbly the ground seemed to be. Once they got to the door of the complex Brian looked down at the blond. His cheeks were flushed, his nose looked red from the cold, and his blue eyes were wide and unfocused.

Brian felt himself sober up once he remembered that the younger man still had eleven blocks from their current standing point to his apartment. Brian frowned, “Stay the night, Rog. It’s way too cold for you to walk back to your house.”

The younger man’s lips parted and a cloud of mist left them, making Brian’s point clearer.

“You can come with us to the rehearsal,” Brian offered, “and taste John’s pancakes.”

Roger smiled, and nodded. They walked up the stairs, Roger making sure that Brian didn’t tumble down the stairs and trying to convince himself that that was the exact reason why he had agreed to come up to the apartment once again.

Once they got there all the lights were turned on, and there was soft sound coming from the living room. Brian put a finger to his lips and tried to take off his shoes as quietly as possible and hang his coat on the rack. Roger followed, making sure that the inebriated Brian didn’t fall back and crack his skull.

They stumbled into Brian’s bedroom, careful not to make any noise, and wake up John and Freddie. Their efforts were useless however, since the television suddenly shut off and they heard Freddie’s voice from the living room, “Brian, dear, are you home?”

Brian turned towards Roger, motioning once again for him to stay quiet even though Roger knew that Freddie probably wouldn’t mind Roger being there with Brian, “Um, yeah. Just got here.”

Brian cringed at his slurred words and Roger giggled, stepping into the room and sitting on the bed. He heard soft steps and then Freddie saying, “I know it’s late but I just wanted to know how-- oh dear, are you _drunk_?”

At that Roger couldn’t keep his giggles in, and Brian soon followed. With their secret now uncovered brian opened the door completely and let Freddie see the younger man. He didn’t look pissed, but his expression was not amused either, “I thought I told you to take care of him.”

“He did,” Brian defended Roger, “he helped me get here.”

“We had fun.” Roger added, “if you wanted to know how tonight went.”

At that Freddie smiled and walked over to the kitchen to get two glasses of water. Meanwhile Roger and Brian got ready for bed, Roger found himself in the same oversized pajamas he had been using a few days prior and Brian smiled when he saw him.  

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Freddie walked in, placing both glasses on the bedside table and smiling at the boys, “You are going to need that tomorrow.”

“I know,” Roger answered, “sorry for not keeping my promise.”

Freddie looked at Brian, who was clumsily climbing into bed, and smiled, “It’s fine. You had fun.”

“We did.”

Freddie placed a kiss on top of Roger’s head, “See you tomorrow, dear.”

“G’night, Freddie.”

He clambered into bed beside Brian and the older man watched with doe eyes as the blond settled down on the matters and covered himself with the covers. He waited until Roger was settled down to turn the light off, and laid back down, trying to see Roger in the darkness.

He couldn’t see much, but he could just make out Roger’s outline, and the soft smell of alcohol and electric cigarette smoke that seemed to cling to Roger since they had left the club.

“You were right,” Brian whispered.

“About what?”

“We were doing it wrong.”

There was a soft silence in which Brian could feel Roger press his cold feet to Brian’s legs, and hear the younger man’s soft breathing and rustling around.  

“Thank you for tonight, Roggie.”

“You’re welcome, _boyfriend._ ”

Brian laughed, but something about Roger’s comment left a bitter taste in his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the amount of dialogue in this thing, but I hope you like it. Also, shout out to the person who said that they wanted to translate my fic into russian, I had never felt more flattered about something in my LIFE, so thank you. You guys, this is the first time someones asks me to do it, and I can't physically contain my happiness. 
> 
> I love every single one of you and I live for all of your feedback and kudos. 
> 
> Again, thank you, thank you, thank you for reading my fanfic.


	8. no one thinks of you quite the way i do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First Rehearsal, Dates two, three, and four. 
> 
> Snippets of their life rather than an actual chapter, but I really want to show their developing relationship before I get into the real heavy parts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, sorry for taking so long to update but I have just had trouble writing this chapter, but I got inspired this weekend by something that happened to me. 
> 
> Also, you might have noticed that the chapter names have changed, and that is because the lyrics belong the song that this story is based on. Also, fun fact for all of the people who want to know about my unrequited crush, its the favourite song of the person I like, and they are the reason why I got inspired to write this chapter so... yeh. 
> 
> Anyway, the song is called "Inevitable" by Shakira, and the lyrics come from the english version of said song. Its an amazing song, tbh and I love it. 
> 
> Also, not betad, all mistakes are mine.

**In the end getting out of bed with a terrible hangover is worth it.**

When they arrive at the recording studio Brian wonders if he should have just told everyone he had puked that morning in order to skip their rehearsals. When Roger starts  _tuning_ his drums and making more noise than absolutely necessary Brian wonders what the quickest, and easiest, way to kill a man is. However, when Roger starts to play Brian feels on cloud nine.   


He is mesmerised by the blond and everything he is doing. He watches intently as the younger boy made drumming seem effortless, made the beats blend into each other with military style rolls, and his peculiar way of hitting the cymbal that made his drumming sound like something completely out of this world. By the time Roger stops playing his instrument Brian has decided that he wants Roger to be part of Queen, regardless of how much trouble they would logistically have with keeping up with their lies. 

And when Freddie urges him to play along side Roger he finds that together they sound even better than any other times he had played with any other drummer. It's easy to find a song they both know, and seems even easier to improvise once they have gotten the hang of each other's styles. John is quick to join, and then when Freddie urges them to play a song he knows the words to they change to something by the Beatles and let the music flow. 

He turns then, walking up to John and suggesting they change from Beatles to Green Day, and is about to do the same with Roger— until he sees the drummer. His blond hair is framing his face like a golden halo, his brow is furrowed in concentration and there is sweat dripping down his neck from the long drumming session he was in. 

Brian's guitar skills faltered and the  _Red Special_ squealed in protest. John instantly bursts into a fit of laughter and Freddie follows. Roger is frowning in confusion and Brian looks like a tomato with legs. 

"Well, I think that might be the only problem we are going to have if Roger joins." 

Brian huffed, "Oh as if you have never gotten distracted by John's  _ass_ in the middle of a gig." 

The comment only made him look even more like an idiot, since John seemed  __ _happy_ about Freddie being called out. And Freddie, well he didn't mind at all by being caught red handed. "Well, he does have a great ass." 

"Oh my God," Brian burned brighter, "I am  _not_ having this conversation." 

Roger cleared his throat and Brian thanked the heavens for the blond, "So does that mean I'm in?" 

"I have never heard something quite like what you just did, darling. Of course you are in!" 

Roger smirked and locked eyes with Brian, "Great, 'cause I wouldn't want to miss the view of Brian's ass while he plays for the world." 

Brian's groan wasn't loud enough to cut through the roars of laughter that filled the room in that moment. 

* * *

"Yes, I know that I said that you could choose the second date but why the hell did you bring me to a bloody museum?" Roger complained, "Even worse, a modern art museum." 

Brian blushed, which seemed to be a recurring thing when he was in Roger's proximity, "I always wanted to have a museum date." 

Roger's steps faltered, the wind blew his hair out of his face, and his heart stopped.  _Damn it,_ some higher force laughed at Roger's misfortune,  _I can't believe I'm going to put myself through this._ "Okay, lets go to our museum date, but be warned I will pick the most anti-Brian activity I can find for the third date." 

He didn't even realise he had basically gotten himself into another date with the beautiful guitarist until Brian's near-blinding smile lit up his face, "Deal, although I would like to think I am full of surprises. You might by surprised by how hard it would be for me to hate a date with you." 

Roger tried not to think too much about the implications of Brian's words, and instead marched into the museum with his head held high, determined not to make a fool of himself. In the end Roger didn't actually hate the museum. Bright colours, flashing lights, and fascinating sculptures drew his attention. He even found himself listening to Brian's long explanations of modern art and ended up getting into a discussion with him about how a piece of furniture couldn't possibly be considered art while in line for some ice cream. 

"What I'm saying is that a bed can represent a lot!" 

"Yeah, and I get that, but a  _normal_ bed shouldn't be considered art." 

"Why not?" 

"Because-" 

Their conversation got cut short by the employee, who cleared her throat and smiled, "What can I get for you?" 

"Two chocolate cones, please," Brian answered, then turned to Roger, "go find a table, I'll take you the ice creams." 

He did as he was told, and found an empty and clean table by an exhibition, which Roger taught it to be a miracle. He sat down and took out his phone and cigarette, then scrolled through  _Instagram_ as he waited for Brian. It didn't take long for the guitarist to arrive, and once he saw Roger his eyes widened. 

"Roger." 

"Yes?" 

"You know that part of the exhibition, right?" 

Roger had never stood up so fast in his entire life. He turned around to look if the chair or table had been damaged, and nearly cried when he was that the paint on the table was chipped. He knew the ridiculous prices for these things, and knew that chipped painting would probably end up costing thousands of pounds. But then Brian started laughing. 

He turned around to find the other man covering his mouth with a cone of ice cream while he laughed at Roger. It didn't take long for the drummer to put two and two together, "You fucking wanker." 

Brian laughed even harder, "It was too good of a chance to let it go." 

Roger grabbed his ice cream from Brian's hand and shoved him back. The other man kept laughing as he sat back down on the, definitely not part of the exhibition, chair.

* * *

"You could find nothing better than  _paint ball_?" 

Roger shrugged, "I told you you wouldn't enjoy it." 

"Yeah, but at least I took you to a place where we could talk and get to know each other," Brian complained as he put his hair up in a bun and tucked it behind the eye mask they gave them. "Here we will be  _shooting_ at one another because, as it turns out, we are in different teams." 

"Come on," Roger said, "It'll be fun." 

And that is how Brian found himself in the middle of a paintball match with a couple dozen of Roger's friends, surprising everyone, himself included, with his natural talent at paint ball. He weaved himself through the labyrinth of obstacles that littered around the field trying to find some unfortunate soul that was close enough for him to hit, and trembling with fear at the prospect of being hit. 

That's how Brian May inevitably ends up facing off against Roger Taylor. 

He knows the other man is the only one left because people had been screaming at them about ending each other. Calling out Brian's name and giving him helpful tips. Eventually everything comes down to who is a better shot, and Brian regardless of how much luck had been on his side that afternoon, had nothing on Roger who had probably played paint ball over a thousand times. 

He tried, he really did, but his shots were not even close to what Roger could do. 

He watched in slow motion as Roger aimed, fired, and hit him square in the face. 

Pain bloomed across his cheekbone and the world turned into a series of flashing lights and white noise. One second he was crouching behind a bunch of tires, the next his head was laid on Roger's lap and the younger boy was looking at him with guilt in his eyes. Roger's callused fingers were ghosting over his forehead and he was rubbing small circles into Brian's arm with his free hand. 

"Are you okay?" 

Brian smiled, then winced at the pain caused by the action, "You look cute when you are worried." 

Roger's eyes widened, then he turned his head and screamed, "Someone get the paramedics!" 

* * *

"Okay, so the restrictions are," Brian scratched his nose, "No boring places like a museum or a cinema." 

"Yes." 

"No dangerous activities like paint ball." 

"I'm still sorry about that." 

"I know, Rog," Brian said, "and I have told you a million times before not to worry about it." 

"I'm sorry." 

Brian sighed in exasperation, "We can't go to a restaurant cause we already ate, can't go to the mall because you think it's the lamest thing on planet earth, and we can't stay here because we both want to go out." 

"Trying to agree with you is impossible." 

Brian glares at Roger and turns back to his laptop and their embarrassing search history of "Things to do in London" which ended up being a bunch of turist traps or market places which both of them knew to stay away from. Finally, Roger sighed and leaned back, trying to to show how angsty he was to get out of the flat, "Maybe we should get  _out_ of London." 

"Out?" Brian questioned, "Like to the countryside?" 

"No," Roger turned the laptop away from Brian and typed a few words on the browser before turning it back towards Brian, "I was think of something like this." 

_**Fab** _

_**Family** _

_**Fun** _

_**Brighton Your Thursday** _

"The Palace Pier?" Brian's said incredulously, "you seriously want to go all the way to Brighton to get into a roller coaster?" 

Roger nodded excitedly, "The pier is fun enough for me, and the forty minute train ride dull enough for you." Brian glared at the comment, but Roger didn't stop speaking, "Come on, I'm sure it's been ages since you last went there! It'll be fun!" 

And that's how Brian and Roger ended up on the first train to Brighton they managed to catch, exchanging childhood stories and laughing about their awkward phases. Once they got there, and ended up spending a  _bunch_ of their money of stupid things like carnival rides and fairy floss, Brian acknowledged the appeal of leaving London for the afternoon. 

Roger turned out to be quite the screamer on carnival rides, and Brian ended up nearly vomiting after getting into the same carnival ride three times in a row due to the small amount of people that were in Palace Pier because of the cold. They only left once they had blindly spent more than twenty pounds on silly arcade games turned into competition once they discovered the joy of competing for a prize. 

Their lovely evening, however, got spoiled by a problem in the train tracks, a robbery gone wrong or something similar that left them stranded in Brighton for the night, with enough money between them to either get dinner or rent a cheap motel room, not both. So they decided that probably they could survive a night by eating peanuts and hotel candy, and rented out the best possible room they could get. 

* * *

Brian was flipping through channels on the TV, searching for something to watch while Roger came back from his food run. They had found five pounds stuffed in the depths of Brian's jeans and had wasted no time to get something to eat. He mindlessly pressed the channel button again and froze when he saw Sandra Bullock's face on the screen. 

He knew this movie by heart.  _The Proposal's_  complete scriptwas _tattooed_ on his brain because of the sheer amount of times he had watched that movie. And now that he was basically in the same situation as the protagonists he felt even more for the poor couple. He watched the next ten minutes absentmindedly until he heard the unmistakable rattling of the door being opened. 

He quickly turned off the TV and walked over to the door, opening it to allow Roger to go inside. The blond smiled, his nose looked red from the cold and he looked adorably small underneath the two jumpers he had taken to avoid freezing to death. 

"God, Brian," He said as he walked into the room, slamming the door shut with the heel of his boot, "I think we got ourselves a feast, and all thanks to my good looks and charm." 

"Lucky lady?" 

He dropped the bags on the bed, "Lucky lad. Poor bloke actually thinks I'm going to call him back." 

He started rambling about what he had managed to get, raging from pre-made sandwiches to two jars of Pringles. He watched in adoration as Roger beamed at the prospect of eating Gummy Bears for dessert, and was rudely brought back to reality when he asked Brian what he had been doing before he arrived.  He thought about the movie, how the characters in it had known each other for over three years before they fell in love, and how Brian was no Sandra Bullock. He couldn't make Roger magically fall in love with him over the course of two weeks. 

He looked at the calendar set on the table, two  _days_ actually. The dinner had come faster than expected between their dates, band practice, and the endless nights in which Roger had tagged along to some bar or restaurant after classes, and they had this double date like dynamic. He was snapped out of his thoughts when a callused hand was put on his cheek. 

He looked up to find Roger's concerned eyes, "Bri, are you okay?" 

" _Roggie_ ," the nickname slipped without his consent and Brian felt like hitting his head against the nearest wall. Outside it had started raining, and the fat raindrops clattered against the window in soft harmony. 

 __Was Brian okay?  


_No, I'm not. This was supposed to be something that lasted three or four days at most. You were supposed to be a bland, average looking, white guy on Tinder looking for some fun. I wasn't supposed to like you, I wasn't supposed to take you home that night at the bar. I wasn't supposed to enjoy sleeping next to you and waking up cuddled with a total stranger. I wasn't supposed to enjoy that first date were you took me drinking, or the second date to the stupid museum, or the third were you nearly shot my eye off, or this date which he ended up stranded on a crappy hotel room with_ Pringles  _as our dinner._  


_I wasn't supposed to adore the way you play the drums._

_I wasn't supposed to want you to be my first shag, or my first proper_ kiss  _for that matter._

_I wasn't supposed to fall in love with you, yet I did._

_Now I'm gonna be heart broken because there's no way you would like me back._

Instead the words get caught in his throat. and what comes out is, "We need to talk about how we are going to break up." 

An indescribable emotion flickered across Roger's eyes and he took his hand away, but then he wrapped it across Brian's wrist and gave it a soft tug, "Tomorrow, I promise. Today lets enjoy the food." 

Brian hesitated, but he looked down at Roger's hand and thought to himself that maybe he could indulge himself for one night. One night of pretending before it was all cut off. So Brian slid his hand down and entwined his fingers with Roger's, "Whatever the chef recommends." 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, Kudos, and Feedback are highly appreciated, swing by the comments and tell me your thoughts on this chapter! 
> 
> Btw, I am so sorry I haven't been answering to your comments, I will try my best to do so from now on. 
> 
> Also swing by [my tumblr (@iamnotbrianmay)](https://iamnotbrianmay.tumblr.com/)and say hi or swing by my [ other maylor fanfic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17697668) and give it a read.


	9. it's all the same to you now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valentines Day special full of fluff and the long waited arrival to the Christmas dinner. Also, two very iconic queen songs start to be developed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooh, I quite like this chapter, actually. Happy Valentine's Day, lovelies! I hope you like my gift!

**Roger wakes up to find himself curled around Brian like a cat.** It wouldn't be the first time that it happens, but it definitely is the most memorable of them. 

The curtains of their dingy hotel room have been pulled apart and warm sunlight is streaming through the window. From Roger's position the sun hits Brian's hair and makes it look like a halo around the guitarist's face. Brian is sitting on the bed, covers pulled up to his waist and one hand tangled into Roger's hair while the other is used to write with dedication into the hotel's crappy notepad with its equally crappy pen. 

The guitarist is mumbling under his breath, bobbing his head ever so slightly to a rhythm that only he can hear, and looking back down to scribble on his notebook every once in a while. Laying there with the warmth of the sun heating up Roger's legs, he nearly builds up the courage to ask Brian what he has been meaning to ask him since their date at the Art Museum, but backs out last second. 

Instead he presses up into Brian's hand and mumbles a soft, "Mornin', sunshine." 

"Rog," Brian replies and instantly snatches his hand away from Roger's head, "you're awake." 

He nearly whines pathetically at the loss of contact before he decides that he has some self-respect, and instead settles for giving Brian a small, flirty, smile, "You writing a song?" 

"I, uh," Brian blushes, "I don't think it can be considered a song yet—" then he stops himself, purses his lips, and sighs, "but yes, its a song." 

Roger hums, stretching himself to try and get himself  _away_ from Brian's warmth. He can't possibly keep indulging himself like this. By curling up to Brian, or pressing sweet kisses to the tip of his nose, or throwing his arms around him— and pretending that Brian is not just pretending to like him to save himself from the embarrassment. 

He cracks his neck and turns to look at Brian, "Does it have a tune yet?" 

Brian shook his head, as he closed the notepad "Barely has a first verse. But I'll sing it to you once it's ready, that's a promise." 

Roger looks over to Brian as the other man throws off the covers and walks over to the television stand. He turns on the old thing and then flips the channels until he gets to the news. They both watch silently as they wait for any updates on the rails, and then start making conversation while the reporter drones on about mindless, unimportant, news. 

When they finally get what they want, according to the news lady they wouldn't have had to wait long if they had decided to wait for the tracks to clear, they start to get ready. Grabbing the few belongings they have, and throwing all of the garbage into the bin before walking out of the room. 

The day is surprisingly sunny, regardless of it being no more than four degrees, and the sun does wonders to Roger's near freezing nose and stiff limbs. They had forgotten to bring chargers for their phones on their little adventure, as well as anything remotely useful like spare change, but when they finally get to London they don't have to look for more than fifteen minutes before they find just enough change on the floor to call Freddie and John, who promptly come pick them up once the situation is explained. 

They laugh at their misery all the way back home, then laugh a little more when Roger's belly growls in hunger. But once they are all stuffed inside the flat, warm and sleepy, they take pity on the poor boys and give them something to eat; and time to take a shower since the hotel lacked hot water. Roger would have rather _died_ than wash himself with freezing water, thank you very much. 

Once they are washed, fed, and comfortable, Freddie and John attack them like vultures. They ask for every raunchy detail they can possibly get their hands on, and what starts out innocent enough rapidly turns into a game of who can make the other blush harder. They end up laughing on the couch, both red as tomatoes as Freddie screams, "Alright, I know you're pulling my leg, Brian is too much of a  _prude_ to have actually _rimmed_ you, Roger." 

Roger bursts into laughter while Brian covers his face with his hands, too embarrassed to even thank the gods about Freddie realising what their little game was. John was snickering in the corner, abstaining from making any of his usual comments now that Roger was around. He liked him, but not that much. 

 _Yet,_ Brian reminded himself,  _he doesn't like Roger much, yet._

Freddie, on the other hand, had his feet propped on Roger's lap as the blond told the actual story of what had happened. Freddie and John laughed, soon they deviated from the topic, and hours later Roger found himself talking with Freddie while Brian and John made tea. The older man was looking at him with mischief in his eyes, and a knowing smile. 

Music started from the kitchen, and once Brian and John shouted at them that they would cook lunch, Freddie sat up and laid his hand on Roger's thigh, "You know, tomorrow is your chance to seal this deal." 

Freddie's voice was just loud enough for Roger to hear, but soft enough so that the people in the kitchen wouldn't even know they were talking. The drummer frowned, "What are you talking about?" 

"I've seen the way you look at him, lovie," Freddie said, "all heart eyes and soft smiles. I think you have fallen in love with him." 

His frown deepened, "Um, he is my boyfriend? I have been in love with him for a long time." 

"Oh, don't play dumb," the singer said while shoving a finger to his chest, "you should propose to him tomorrow, I'm sure he would say yes." 

Roger's eyes widened, what was Freddie even talking about? Was he really telling him to ask Brian to marry him? He knew, from Brian's various stories, that Freddie could be a hopeless romantic. Always looking for the next big love story, the next star-crossed lovers, to write a song about. But asking some random kid to marry your best friend only days after you've met them seemed too out of the question, "Are you telling me to  _marry him,_ Fred?" 

"No! Don't be ridiculous!" Freddie rolled his eyes, "I'm telling you to ask him to be your boyfriend. I'm getting sick and tired of your little rouse, and having to watch you pretend. Grow a pair, mate." 

Roger's heart stopped beating, "You know?" 

"I found Brian's profile a yesterday while looking for any signs of you being a cheating asshole," Freddie grinned wildly, "Smart move, from his part. Not erasing the profile? Dumb mistake." 

Roger's ears were ringing, nerves felt like a bow string, and his legs were ready to move at the moment Freddie said that he had to leave the house, but it never happened. The older man just reached over, tucking a strand of loose hair behind Roger's ear and smiling warmly, "So what do you say,  _satsuma boy,_ do you want some help your little problem?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Umph that twist, now that I'm sure all of your theories of what's going to happen got thrown out of the window I'm really enjoying thinking about all of your reactions to this chapter! 
> 
> Mwahaha I swear this story is unexpected, there is more to come, I promise. After all we are not even half way there.
> 
> It's short, I know, but its the chapter before everything goes down, so be ready.


	10. to be true i must confess,

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and because one twist wasn't enough, two are in order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this chapter marks the beginning of the real plot of this entire fic. We will get the start of the dinner, some Freddie & Roger bonding cause their friendship is amazing, and then get an unexpected visitor who causes a reaction out of Roger that none of you would have guessed. 
> 
> Enjoy!

**By noon Roger was so anxious that he called Freddie and asked him to come over.** His flat was a mess, clothes thrown all over the place, speakers blasting songs that didn't last one minute before Roger decided that the lyrics, or the melody, wouldn't help his case, and tension filling the air in a way that made it hard for Roger to breathe. 

There was a knock at the door, and Roger was off his phone and answering the door in the blink of an eye. He yanked open the door, completely forgetting that he was only wearing an old, oversized, shirt his parents had gotten him from their trip to Costa Rica and red boxers. Freddie met his eyes and grimaced, "Oh dear, must be really bad if I find you like this." 

Roger crossed his arms defensively, "How'd you know I'm not like this all the time." 

Freddie scoffed, walking past Roger, "Darling, nobody willingly listens to Nickelback unless they have already gone through most of the music on Spotify." The older man kicked aside a jacket, making way from the door to the place where Roger's speaker was proudly displayed on the kitchen counter, and right beside it, his phone. "So, just to start fixing this mess, I'm going to put some  _good_ music, to help you with your crisis." 

He tossed Roger his phone after telling him to unlock it, the blond obliged, then handed Freddie the phone back. Jimi Hendrix started to blast through the speakers, and Freddie turned to him with a sly smile, "Okay, now onto more important things. What will you be wearing for tonight's dinner?" 

Time seemed to fly when he spent it with Freddie. The older man seemed to know how to ease his mind, because suddenly all of the pent up anxiety from that morning had vanished by the time they got to the third outfit change. Freddie would pick pieces of clothing that Roger had thrown on the floor and chuck them at the younger man. He would go into the room, change, then strut out for Freddie. 

Somewhere along the line, when the music had turned into the Dire Straights, Freddie had started to narrate Roger's outfits, giving them ratings out of twenty-five ( _"Come on, Rog. Twenty five is just a better number for the job."_ ) and making Roger twirl and dance when they found one outfit they particularly liked. He was now trying out a jacket that had been stolen from the market stall of a grumpy looking woman at Kensington market. It was a pretty looking jacket, with black background and golden flowers stitched all over the jacket in a fancy looking pattern. 

He looked at himself in the mirror and smiled, "Okay, Freddie, I'm coming out." 

He heard his friend clear his throat from the other side of the door, " _Okay, and now dazzling us with her beauty, comes Miss Elizabeth Taylor—"_

Roger came out of the room and struck a pose, ready to keep listening to Freddie talking about how pretty he looked. Instead there was silence. Roger looked at Freddie quizzically, who had his eyebrows raised in surprise. 

"Oh,  _darling_ , that looks amazing!" 

Roger laughed, "Yeah?" 

"Yes!" Freddie stood up from the couch and walked over, "Oh, you should definitely wear this for the dinner tonight! You'll be the talk of the party!" 

Roger laughed once again, "I think I'm going to be the talk of the party even if I wear something simple, Fred."

The mood instantly dimmed, Freddie looked at him with a serious expression and placed both of his hands on Roger's shoulders, "Have you thought about what you are going to tell him?" 

Roger shook his head, "I've been trying to think about it all morning, but nothing feels right." 

Freddie guided them to the couch, throwing the clothes off the couch and to the floor, then sitting Roger down, "Talk to me, Liz." 

Roger smiled shyly about the newly acquired nickname, and then sighed, "It's just— 'I think I don't want to break up with you' is too lame, and 'I think I fell in love with you' is _way_ too much,  _way_ to fast." 

"There is still many things you could say. Those are not your only options." 

"I  _know,_ Fred," Roger whined, "I just can't find the right thing to say." 

There was a long pause in which Freddie wrinkled and relaxed his face about five times before he finally settled on one idea, "What if you don't say anything?" 

"As in not telling him?" 

"As in flirting with him all night." Freddie clarified, "Make it clear enough that you like him a lot. sticking to his side all evening, and then proposing to go on a date, a  _real_ date, when we leave. Then you tell him about your feelings at the date. You give yourself more time to think about what you want to say to him. Not only a few miserable hours."

Roger tried to find any fault in Freddie's plans, searching for the catch, or the way it could go wrong apart from getting turned down, and gave up once he found there was nothing wrong with it. He ran a hand over his face before nodding, "Yeah, that sounds like a solid plan." 

Freddie smiled, "Great, now let me just find something to wear and we will be off to the party." 

"Okay," Roger agreed, "Let me help you choose." 

Once they left Roger's flat, both dressed in equally outrageous clothing, they headed towards the underground station that lead them as close as they could get to Phoebe's house. Freddie made a few calls, most of them to instruct Brian and John what to take, and then turned his full attention to Roger, and start planning his date with Brian. 

They stopped talking once they were outside Phoebe's house. It was a large and pretty house with flowers and decorations adorning the doorway, inside he could hear loud music, probably Cyndi Lauper, and laughter. He tugged at the sleeve of his jacket, trying to look presentable. 

Freddie grabbed his wrist, "I told you, darling, you'll be the talk of the party with how pretty you look." 

 

And talk of the party he was. Roger entered the house walking side by side with Freddie, and as they got close a commotion could be heard from inside. Soon a pretty blonde girl with a crooked nose opened the door, she squealed when she saw Freddie and threw her arms around him. The singer spinned her once before setting the blonde down, "Evening, m'lady." 

"Freddie," she turned towards Roger, "you brought us our gift!"

Freddie laughed, "This is Roger, Brian's boy—" 

"Brian's boyfriend," She interrupted, "Yes, I know. We have been waiting for him to show up." She stuck her hand out, "Hi, my name is Mary Austin." 

"Roger Taylor," he answered and took her hand. Mary instantly pulled him into a hug, "I'm so glad you could come."

Then she turned around and started dragging them inside. Roger looked at Freddie and the older man could barely mouth an  _I'm sorry_ before they were pulled apart into different groups of people. After twenty greetings, a dozen compliments on his jacket, what seemed like three hundred hugs, and a rather large glass of  _something_ being shoved into his hand, Roger was finally able to stand beside Freddie for moral support. That small peace lasted for about ten minutes, which was the time it took for Brian and John to arrive, then all hell broke loose again. 

Not only because all of the people in the house started screaming and laughing, shoving Roger and Brian together, but because Brian looked like a dream to Roger. His hair curled right above his shoulders, framing his face. He was wearing black pants that made his legs look long and slim, and he was wearing a grey and white jacket that fit him just right. 

Roger didn't have to pretend to look absolutely smitten. 

Brian leaned down and placed a soft kiss on Roger's nose, "You look amazing tonight." 

Roger blushed, "When did I magically turn into a mirror?" 

At that the older man threw his head back with laughter, sound that made Roger's heart skip a beat. Cooing came from all around the room at the action. Everyone was watching the pair with soft eyes. Once Roger met Freddie's eyes the other man raised his cup, "Three cheers for the couple!" 

Everyone proceeded to make loads of noise and Roger buried his face on Brian's chest. The older man brought his hand to cup the back of Roger's head, "I did warn you about them." 

Roger laughed, and remembering what Freddie had said about flirting with Brian all night long, he hooked his finger around the belt loop of Brian's pant, "I like them a lot." 

"You would." 

The mood was broken when the door opened once again, letting in a breeze of cold air. Everyone turned to look at the door and Roger took his chance to bury his head further into Brian's body, practically nuzzling into his chest. That is until he heard Brian mutter under his breath, "Oh Jesus fuck." 

He peeled himself away and looked at the person on the door. The guy was tall, lanky, and badly dressed. Roger was about to ask who he was until his crappy eyes adjusted to the sudden change of light and his heart fell to the floor. 

The drummer felt out of breath, out of balance, and ready to run out of the building. Old and new feelings bubbled up to the surface, as Roger watched the man say hi to some of Freddie's friends, and take off his scarf and coat. He clenched his fists to stop them from shaking, and closed his eyes to prevent unshed tears from spilling. Then once his emotions and expression were suppressed he allowed himself to open to his eyes, only to find  _him_ standing a few meters away.

"Roger," the brunette said once he saw him, "I didn't think I would see you tonight." 

And with those nine words, _Tim fucking Staffell_ was back into Roger's life. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Swing by [my tumblr (@iamnotbrianmay)](https://iamnotbrianmay.tumblr.com/)and say hi or swing by my [ other maylor fanfic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17697668) and give it a read.


	11. i never sleep at twelve or less

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All it takes is nine words for Roger to be chucked into the past, nine words for Brian's world to come tumbling down, and nine words for Tim Staffell to tear apart what was so slowly coming together. 
> 
> WARNINGS: This chapter contains a non-consensual kiss, an abusive relationship, and very heavy panic attacks and angst. If you are not into that please proceed with caution. 
> 
> (Double update, heck yeah!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay thank you all for sticking with me, this chapter marks what I will call a mid-season finale, because next week I'm going on my school trip to the beach, then I'm having a week long soccer tournament and then I'm going to New York to participate at an MUN, so I probably won't post for like two weeks or more. 
> 
> There hasn't been a first kiss, first fuck, first anything and all of you are still loyal, so for that thank you very much. Also, I ask for your patience because it won't happen for a while. 
> 
> But now, I'm going to write a very long chapter, very angst filled, very plot developing, and then leave you in the biggest fucking cliffhanger I could ever possibly leave you in because I just love to torture y'all. But seriously, thank you for sticking around, and I hope you enjoy. 
> 
> Also, the writing style is a little bit different, but I hope you like it! 
> 
> WARNINGS: This chapter contains a non-consensual kiss, an abusive relationship, and very heavy panic attacks and angst. If you are not into that please proceed with caution.

_**"Roger, I didn't think I would see you tonight."** _

_The bar crowded and smelled strongly of beer and cigarettes. Once he hears the voice his head shoots up, and he meets the eyes of one of his classmates. His hair is messy and wavy, his eyes the colour of warm chocolate, and his smile is almost infectious. Roger runs a quick hand over his messy, short, hair trying to make it at least presentable._

_"Tim," Roger says, a little bit breathless, "didn't take you for the kind that would come to a gay bar."_

_The older man threw his head back in laughter, the neon lights of the club making his features soft and beautiful at the same time. Roger melted into his chair, and instantly realised he was too far gone._

* * *

The memory comes and goes in the blink of an eye, and he takes a step back, burying himself further into Brian. As if to trying to gain energy from his friend, "Tim. Hi." 

He feels Brian bristle, "You know him?" 

Before Roger can answer Tim takes another step forward, and the blond instinctively wraps his arm around Brian. Something flashes through Tim's eyes, "We dated a few months ago. But there no bad blood between us, is there Roger?" 

It's like someone else is moving his body for him, someone else shaking his head and giving Tim a sweet smile while answering, "No, none at all." 

Brian was the only one to notice Roger's tension, or rather his arm did, because he felt blunt fingernails burying into his flesh and his fingers tense as the shorter man spoke. 

* * *

  _ _ **"Roger, I didn't think I would see you tonight."**__

_"Can't live in fear, can I?" The younger man said as he twirled his drumstick between his fingers. "You made me realise that."_

_The bassist took one step forward, and Roger held his ground, not willing to back down once he was so close to getting what he wanted. Tim leaned down and brushed his lips against Roger's, and the world seemed to stop. Once he pulled away Roger had to bite his lip to pounce on Tim and kiss him senseless. They had a gig to preform._

_"I knew you just needed a little coaxing, baby." The bassist whispered, "I knew I would get you."_

* * *

 OnceTim greeted everyone inside the house he walked over to Phoebe and started chatting with him. Leaving Roger and Brian alone. The guitarist grabs the drink from Roger's hand and places it on the nearest table. Soon the taller man was guiding Roger out of the living room and into the house's backyard. Out on the cold Roger feels like he can finally breathe, and he reaches for his Juul only to find that he must have left it at home when he left with Freddie. 

He runs his hands through his long hair, relishing in the way it now reached below his shoulders, and let a soft whimper escape from his lips. 

"Roggie," he hears Brian say softly, "Roggie, talk to me. What's wrong?" 

Roger's hands are trembling, and when he tried to speak the words get caught in his throat. 

"Roger, do you need me to tell Tim to leave?" 

* * *

  _ _ **"Roger, I didn't think I would see you tonight."**__

_"I know, Tim," Roger said as he pressed a soft kiss to the other man's lips. He couldn't seem to get enough, couldn't seem to stop himself now that he knew he didn't need to stop, "You told me that already."_

_"I'm so glad you came."_

_Roger smiled, looking at his_  boyfriend  _who in turn was looking at him through heavy-lidded eyes, a lazy smile plastered on his face, and the softness of the afterglow making him look like an angel to Roger. The blond couldn't hold himself back any more, he pressed himself to Tim's lips, and then switched his position so that he was laying on top of the older man._

_Tim chuckled, "Eager for round two, are we?"_

_Roger grinded down on Tim, "You have no idea."_

* * *

 Roger can't speak, he can't will his body to nod, and he curses at the sky for sapping all of his strength on the moment he needs it the most. The only thing he _can_ do is let out a single, very pathetic, whimper that makes Brian step forward and wrap his arms around Roger's shoulders. 

"Hey," the taller man tells him as he places his chin, "It's alright, I'm here." 

He can't even will himself to wrap his arms around Brian. 

"It's alright," he whispers again, "I can take you home if you want to." 

* * *

  _ _ **"Roger, I thought I wouldn't see you tonight."**__

 _ _The rain was falling down in what seemed like buckets, fat, cold, droplets rolled down Roger's back and he wrapped his arms around himself to try and keep warm. A small part in his brain unhelpfully reminded him that the rain was__ not  _what was making him cold._

 _"I thought I had explicitly told you that you had to_ stay home. _"_

_Roger shrugged, "I know, but I got bored."_

_"I can't fucking believe you always have to go against everything I say!"_

_Raged filled Roger's chest, "I have a right to choose what I can and can't do! You can't control me, Staffell!"_

_There was a beat of silence, "I'm sorry, baby. I was just trying to protect you."_

_"It's—" The blond felt his anger deflate like a balloon, "It's alright, I guess. Just don't do that again."_

* * *

 This time, at the mention of home, at the mention of being far away from the  _monster_ currently lurking in the living room, his body obliged to his commands. " _Please."_

He felt Brian nod, then he felt another quick squeeze, "I'll go inside to tell everyone you are not feeling well. Think you can wait for me here?" Roger nodded, and Brian left. Pulling open the door before stopping for a second and turning towards Roger, "Is there anything you want before we leave?" 

 _Did Roger need anything?_ His answers seemed to be reduced to a single word per answer, but Brian didn't mind, "Cigarette." 

The curly haired man pursed his lips in distaste, but then he nodded and walked inside. 

* * *

  _ _ **"Roger, I can't believe you turned that down."**__

__"It was nothing, Tim." Roger said, as he brewed his boyfriend some tea, "I don't really like to smoke."_ _

__"Yeah," Tim said, "But I got that pack specially for you. Do you know how expensive flavoured cigarettes are?"_ _

__Guilt flooded Roger's chest, but he pushed it down and smiled at Tim once he handed him the cup of tea, the brunette did not return the smile, "You know I hate the smell, and the taste."_ _

__It was true, he made Tim wash his mouth every time he smoked before kissing him. He walked away every time someone took out one of their stupid-looking vape boxes, and vehemently turned down everyone who had ever offered a cigarette or vape to him in his short life time. All in all, Roger Meddows Taylor was not a smoker._ _

__"That's why I bought them for you," Tim insisted, "'cause I love you and I know you hate normal ones. But it's fine, I can give someone else your gift if you don't want them."_ _

__This time Roger couldn't keep down the wave of guilt that washed over him, the same wave of guilt that pushed him to grab one of the apple flavoured cigarettes and lighting it._ _

* * *

Roger turned his head towards the sky. The night was pretty clear, with a bright, large, moon, and one or two stars here and there. A voice on the back of his mind reminded him about Freddie's suggestion of taking Brian stargazing for their first date, and Roger allowed a small smile to cross his lips. 

He heard the door open and close softly, and expectantly waited for Brian to come stand by his side. And the person did come to stand next to him, but when Roger turned to look at Brian, he didn't see the curly haired, absolutely adorable, guitarist. But rather Tim, who stood there looking at the stars as if he wasn't causing Roger's Universe to collapse. 

* * *

  _ _ _ **"Roger, that's the third time you turn down a drink tonight, are you sure you are alright?"**___

___"Yeah, don't worry," he said nonchalantly, "Tim just advised me to cut back the drinking, and to be honest? I feel pretty good about it."_ _ _

___"Rog, that's the third thing he tells you to cut back on."_ _ _

___Roger nodded, "I know, Bowie, but he has been right about everything until now. So I think I'm gonna follow his advise."_ _ _

___David looked at Roger as he took a long drag from his cigarette, "Will he ever advise you against smoking as much as you are?"_ _ _

___"Nah," another drag and a large cloud of smoke, "He is the one that buys me the ciggies."_ _ _

* * *

 "I don't know why you were looking up," Tim said, "you can't see shit through the pollution." 

A blanket of cold seemed to settle on Roger, "What are you doing here?" 

 _God_ , he hates how pathetic he sounds, hates how small and scared his words sounded next to Tim's, which seemed to command Roger to answer him, even if no question was asked. 

"Well, this are  _my_ friends," Tim says, as if that were the most obvious fact in the world, "now the question is what  _you_ are doing here." 

"Brian is _my_ boyfriend." He says, and Tim's head snaps towards him, "And Freddie and Deacy are _my_ friends." 

* * *

  _ _ _ _ **"Roger, I didn't think I would see you tonight."**____

____"I wasn't planning on coming," his voice sounded small, even to his own ears, "but I really need your help, Bowie."_ _ _ _

____The other man rounded the counter and came to sit beside Roger, "What's wrong?"_ _ _ _

____"When did you notice that Tim had gone too far?"_ _ _ _

____The other man seemed taken aback by the question, and covered Roger's hands with his own, "Did he do something to you?"_ _ _ _

____When Roger nodded his shoulder felt like it was on fire, and tears threaten to spill from his eyes._ _ _ _

* * *

 There is a commotion inside, something that sounds like angry shouts. But the sounds are far, far, away; getting even more blurred and nonsensical as Tim takes a step towards him. 

"Brian is your _what_?" 

His voice is barely above a whisper, "Boyfriend." 

Tim raises his eyebrow, and lets out a humourless chuckle, "You could have chosen anyone in the world and you chose  _Brian May?"_

"What?" The words are out before Roger can stop them, he is looking at Tim's eyes as they become steely. The words taste like lead, like poison, and he doesn't need to be a genius to know he shouldn't have fucking done that. "Are you  _jealous?"_

* * *

  _ _ _ _ _ **"Roger, is everything alright?"**_____

_____The rain was falling down on the sidewalk outside, and water droplets were falling from his hair and into his eyes. He feels his tears mixing with the rainwater, and feels the cold bringing down his already low energy. "I can't stop."_ _ _ _ _

_____Dominique takes a step towards Roger, "What?"_ _ _ _ _

_____"I can't stop smoking."_ _ _ _ _

_____Thunder rumbles in the distance._ _ _ _ _

_____"It's been three months since I broke up with him and I can't stop smoking."_ _ _ _ _

* * *

 Roger's sister had taken one look at Tim before deciding she didn't like the other man. Clare, beautiful and strong Clare, had taken him into her room that night and told him to dump Tim Staffell before it was too late. Before he fell in love with someone who definitively did not love him back. Roger had laughed at her face, and told her to shove her jealousy up her butt. 

She was the first one to know when Roger had dumped Tim. The first one to open up her arms and let him cry until he couldn't utter a single tear. She was the first one to look at him with pity in her eyes once he took out one of his cancer sticks, and smoked it. The first one to ask a question that would haunt him through the next two months of his life, "Oh Meddows, what did he  _do_ to my brother?" 

* * *

To say Brian was fuming was an understatement. He thundered into the house, marching up to the only person he knew could have even thought about inviting Tim Staffell after he had told them not to, and turned Freddie Mercury around. The other man smiled innocently, and chuckled once he saw Brian's face, "Oh dear, what did I do now?" 

"Why did you invite Tim?" 

Freddie frowned, "You are angry about _that_?" 

"What else would I be angry about, Freddie?" Brian raised his voice, anger fuelling the volume, "You invited the person I had been in love with for _years_ to the first time I bring my  _boyfriend_ to a dinner. What else am I supposed to be angry about?" 

Confusion clouded his face, "Nothing happened between you and Roger?" 

" _What_?" Brian felt the anger rise, "Why would anything happen between us?" 

"I—" Freddie's face went through a thousand different emotions before settling on regret, "I thought bringing Tim here would make you realise what you have with Roger is invaluable." 

The worst part was the Freddie's planned had worked for about fifteen seconds. He had looked at Tim and his first thought had been, _well, he really doesn't have anything on Roger_. That was until he saw Roger crumble right before his eyes, and Tim looking at Roger with hunger. Only then did the spell break, and did Brian realise that Roger was probably in danger. 

"You fucking knew," Brian accused Freddie, "you knew about what we were doing and you didn't think about fucking _telling_ me?" 

"It would have ruined the surprise." 

"What bloody surprise?" 

"Roger was going to ask you out on a date tonight." 

That was all it took for Brian to snap out of his trance, he felt his breath shorten and his vision become blurry. He look around the room, and found that everyone was around them, watching the exchange intently. Everyone but two people, Tim and  _Roger_. Now, he didn't know what the history behind Tim and Roger was, he only knew that the older man had shaken up Roger enough for him to become a trembling, mute, mess. And Brian had left him  _alone_ in a place that Tim could easily reach him. 

"Roger," he whispers, as his anger starts to dissipate, and turns into _worry_ , " _Roger!"_

He runs out, ignoring the shouts for him to come back, ignoring the way that something glass-like falls to the floor and shatters. He ran out without stopping to see if Freddie was alright from the sudden aggression. 

And he was damn glad he didn't stop. 

* * *

The world around Roger melts away, leaving him cold, alone, and terrified. Tim lets out something resembling a growl and fear curls at the pit of his stomach. Then Tim is pressing him against the nearest wall, pinning his hands at his sides, his hips to Roger's, and his lips against his. 

The worst part is that Tim still tastes like home. 

Roger feels completely numb, completely disconnected from the world, as Tim kissed him like he used to do when they were still together. And the only thought he can muster is a plead for Brian to burst through that door and knock Tim's teeth out. 

He can hear his name being called from inside, he can hear Brian's voice as he frantically calls for him, but he can't find it in him to break the kiss. He is pinned to the wall by more than just a single man. And when he wills his body to move all he can do is twitch pathetically and feel as a tear falls down his cheek. 

And for the second time that night Roger Meddows Taylor is left absolutely powerless. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this happened, I can't say I regret this, but I certainly do feel like it just changed the course of the story for all of you who thought you knew what you were getting into. You didn't think I'd be kind enough to let you go without drama, did you? 
> 
> I am a slut for kudos and comments, also please do tell me what you think about what just happened cause I felt like it was the absolute BEST but I really want to hear what you have to say. 
> 
> Swing by [my tumblr (@iamnotbrianmay)](https://iamnotbrianmay.tumblr.com/) and say hi or swing by my [ other maylor fanfic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17697668) and give it a read.


	12. never take a bath on sundays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian is left to pick up the pieces
> 
> (WARNING: Mentions of an abusive relationship)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey beautiful babies, I know I said this chapter was going to take two weeks to come but I found some spare time due to being sick. I hope you like it, and I hope you all are up for some more drama and tears to come. I love you all madly, thank you for sticking around for my fic! 
> 
> Also, I just came back from my whale watching trip and I have to say it was amazing! If anyone is interested in seeing some whale pictures, videos, or pictures of me and my friends hmu! Or follow me on instagram at @majo.lourido and go to my highlights! 
> 
> I love you all and hope you enjoy the chapter!

**For the first time in his _life_ Brian doesn't stop to think. **He bursts out of the house and his eyes instantly zero in on the two men. He sees the way that Roger's hands are pinned to the wall and he is feebly struggling against Tim's grip. 

One second he is close to the door, the next he is across the yard shoving Tim away. 

The other man stumbles back, and Brian puts himself in between him and Roger, making sure to cover the blond without touching him. He didn't know how he might react if he tried to touch him.

He stares Tim down, trying to seem as tall and imposing as possible, and when the older man moves Brian takes a step forward, trying to put more space between the bassist and Roger. Brian glares at him, "Get out." 

Tim wipes his mouth and Brian feels disgust boil in the pit of his stomach, "I didn't know he was taken." 

"I said get out." 

"You shouldn't believe anything he says," Tim warns him, and it takes all of Brian's strength not to punch him, "he likes to lie to cry for attention." 

"Tim," Brian growls, "Get out. Don't make me say it again." 

The older man hesitated, looking at Brian as if he was trying to decide what to do, before he turned and marched inside. Brian let his shoulders fall, and allowed himself to turn back to look at Roger, bracing himself for what he might find. Roger was looking at him with big, round, eyes, tears threatening to spill from them. All it took was for Brian to take a step forward for Roger to break. 

It was a horrible, heartbreaking, sound that was barely audible, but made Brian's heart shatter. Roger slid down the wall, curling up into a ball and tucking his face into his knees. The commotion from inside seemed far away, and so did the door slam that rattled the windows. All that Brian could focus on was Roger, curled up and sobbing, with his back pressed to the wall. 

He crouched down, reaching over to touch Roger, then deciding against it and instead tucking his hand into his jacket, "Roggie, do you want to go home?" 

His sobs stuttered, and when he looked up to Brian his eyes were rimmed with red and puffy, "I'm sorry." 

Brian shook his head, "Don't be sorry, Rog. There is nothing to be sorry about." 

"I'm sorry," Roger whispered again, and leaned forward, putting his forehead on Brian's shoulder, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." 

He was sure tears were going to stain his jacket, and his pants were going to get stained from the dirt on the floor. But he couldn't bring himself to care. He sat down and let Roger cry his heart out, thinking that the questions he had about Tim, about Roger, and about their past could wait. He _would_ wait.  

* * *

Roger was silent during the trip back to his apartment. Not only was he silent, but he was also basically frozen in place. His hands interlaced, his brow furrowed and his eyes trained on a stain on the back of the taxi's driver seat. Brian's heart couldn't take it, but his brain had his hands plastered to his sides and his finger curled in a fist to avoid touching Roger. 

Once they got to the apartment Brian helped Roger up. He walked behind him, ready to catch him if he fell, and patiently waited for Roger to open the door to his house with trembling hands and tear brimmed eyes. Everything seemed slow and quiet— so different from what he had grown used to from Roger that Brian felt tears fill his eyes. 

Once they were inside Roger locked the door, finding every possible way to reassure himself that no one would be able to come in even if they tried, then turned towards the living room and curled himself up in a ball. Brian was left standing awkwardly in the small apartment, looking around with sad eyes and wondering how on earth he was going to get out of the apartment once Roger told him to leave. 

He didn't know how to open all of the intricate locks on the door, and how to put them back on once he left. His thoughts were interrupted by Roger calling his name. He was in front of the blond in no time, trying to make himself as small as possible. 

There was silence for a couple of minutes, the only indication that Roger was still awake was the soft, broken, sniffles that were heard all around the room every few seconds, then came a confession, "Did you know I never told anyone everything about what had happened with Tim?"

Brian counted two seconds before answering, "Why?" 

Roger shrugged, and more silence came. For a few seconds Brian thought he had reached the end of what he was allowed to ask, then Roger spoke again, "I think it was because it would make it a thousand times more real." 

"You should speak to someone." 

Roger looked up, pupils looking strikingly blue against the red that rimmed them. Roger bit his lip, looking at Brian like he was trying to decipher what to do next. Once he decided, Roger sighed and propped his chin in his knees, "Did you know that Tim Staffell is the cheesiest person I have ever met?" 

"Roger—" 

"He is _,"_ Roger insisted, "he asked me to be his boyfriend in the prettiest park I had ever been to, with the best chocolates anyone had ever gifted to me, and the largest bouquet of roses I had ever laid my eyes on." 

"Roger, you don't have to tell me." 

The younger man pursued his lips, "I know," a pause, "but I want to." 

And that's how Brian spent the rest of his night. Listening to everything Roger had to say, comforting him whenever he saw the tears build up. Digging his nails into the palms of his hands when his rage grew. Deleting Tim's number from his phone once Roger told him that the bassist was the main reason why Roger smoked. 

Vowing to tear down every picture Tim had taken when Roger told him about the two times Tim hit him. 

It was only after hours of listening to Roger that the two of them grew tired enough to call it a night. It was nearly three in the morning when Roger gave him too small pyjamas and told him to change into them. He walked back out and found Roger putting blankets and pillows on the couch, making it as comfortable as possible for Brian to sleep in. 

Roger wet his lips once he saw Brian standing next to the bedroom door, "I know this wouldn't be the first time we slept together but I can't do it." 

A beat of silence. 

"Not tonight." 

Brian gave Roger a small smile, "I could always head back to my place if that makes you feel better." 

Roger shook his head instantly, "No, I _need_ you to stay. Just not in the same bed as me."

Brian nodded, "Okay. Then I will stay." 

The blond walked up to Brian, hesitating as he walked past and cautiously placing a hand on his shoulder,  "Thank you. For everything." 

Roger was quick to go back into his room, closing the door as he went in and locking it. Brian was left alone in the living room, cold and weighted down by the thousand-words confession that Roger had given him. He went to sleep in the uncomfortable couch, in Roger too small pyjamas, and realised that out of all times he had slept in the same house as Roger this was the first time they had slept in a different bed. 

Somehow, that didn't seem like a step back in the slightest. 


	13. since i'm telling you too much

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heartfelt conversations, burnt breakfast, and confessions are in order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good afternoon beautiful people! I haven't updated in so long and I'm sorry for that, school has just been kicking my ass. I hope this update is good, and that I meet all of your expectations.
> 
> Also, great fucking news everyone! I Have the Most Amazing Beta on the Planet! Thank you so much @Rose_2925, and please, all of you go and give her all of your love [through tumblr](https://riveter-rose.tumblr.com/)!
> 
>  
> 
> For all of you who wish for a little spoiler before you read this chapter: 
> 
>  
> 
> \- No, I we won't have a relationship yet, but worry not, we will have one someday! Certainly before the last three chapters of the fic, but I can't give away anything else so... just enjoy!

**Brian awoke to the sound of soft guitar playing** , faintly but distinctly enough for Brian's trained ears to pick out. The plucking of the strings were methodical and practiced, and it only took him a few seconds to recognise the song. 

_ Blackbird _ floated through the apartment and Brian hummed along to the familiar melody. 

Sitting up and rubbing at his stiff neck, the events of the night before came flooding back, dread settling heavy on his chest. He ran his hands over his face, praying to every known deity that Roger at least got a decent night's rest. As his feet hit the floor he realised there is a cool current of air curling it’s way through the apartment. 

Brian pushed off the low couch and followed the sound of the guitar until reached the farthest corner of the flat. There, tucked away in a corner, was the window leading to the fire escape of the building, left slightly ajar. The bright winter sunlight gleamed off of Rogers head, bent over the guitar as he sat on the iron steps. An unseasonably warm January day, he was wearing a large jumper and jeans, no shoes and had his hair tied back from his face. Unguarded and unaware, he appeared incredibly small in the vastness of the city scape behind him. Brian watched for a moment before knocking on the window lightly, opening it enough so he could duck his head out. Roger turned to look at him, stopping his playing for a second and focusing on the taller man. 

"Did I wake you?" 

"I didn't mind," Brian reassured him, "It was beautiful; and here I thought I was supposed to be the guitarist.” 

Roger smiled and turned back to his guitar, gesturing with a nod of his head for Brian to sit down beside him, "Beatles fan?”

Brian climbed outside of the apartment, settling beside Roger, "Who isn't?" 

"Fair point," Roger strummed the guitar once experimentally, "Any requests?”

Brian smiled, “give me that guitar and I’ll show you how it’s done”

They stayed like that, passing the guitar back and forth, for what seemed like hours. They did so until their fingers became numb, and their lips started looking a little blue. After a while Brian’s stomach growled, Roger laughed and declared it was time for them to eat. Once they got inside Roger headed to the kitchen and placed eggs and a loaf of bread on the counter. “Alright Brian, how do you like your eggs?” he said, rolling up his long sleeves. In an instant, Brian’s smile faded from his face as he saw ugly purple bruises on the other man’s pale wrists. Roger noticed his expression and looked down at them, his cheeks colouring when he saw the bruises. He pulled his sleeves back down self-consciously. 

“Roger, are you alright?” Brian asked softly, stepping towards him. Roger hunched his shoulders, “I’m fine..” he said unconvincingly. “But uh..thank you.” he looked up at Brian “Thank you for defending me last night.” 

“What else was I supposed to do?" Brian asked. “I’m just sorry I left you alone with him, I should have never, you looked so  _ scared _ when you saw Tim, I had to say something to Freddie. And then when I found you—" 

He stopped, shame heating his face, shame that he had let anything happen to him; his fake-boyfriend who was feeling more and more like— something else. 

Roger swallowed thickly, “You can say it, Bri " 

Silence stretched between them.

Roger continued, his voice low and resigned, "When he had me pinned to the wall, shoved his tongue down my throat." 

"I'm so sorry I let that happen, I left you alone." Brian said, looking down at his hands, "I should have never let Freddie get away with inviting him in the first place." 

Roger shook his head, "You couldn't have known any of that was going to happen. I never told anyone about what happened with Tim."

Roger didn’t have to know about his not-crush on Tim. Roger didn’t have to know the  _ real  _  reason why Tim was there in the first place. 

“Thank you, for telling me,” Brian said softly, meeting Rogers eyes. Roger nodded, then turned back to the stove, getting out a pan for eggs.

“Scrambled alright?” he asked over his shoulder. 

“Sounds great” Brian replied. 

There was a tense silence in the kitchen, as Roger made breakfast and Brian stood to the side, watching as he calmly and methodically completed the tasks. It seemed as if everything Roger was doing was calculated, taking out the ingredients and dishes one by one, finding peace and normality in the activity even if it wasn't the most time-efficient. Brian wondered if that was how Roger always cooked, or if he was still trying to settle his nerves. Still feeling a bit unnerved himself, Brian realised in that moment that he felt as if he knew both an awful lot about Roger, and nothing at all. He knew how Roger liked to sleep in his bed, but not his favourite colour. He knew everything about Roger's abusive relationship with Tim, but he didn't know where his first kiss had been; not even whether Roger was strictly into guys or if his preference was more fluid. 

Brian didn’t often have epiphanies; but as he stood, watching Roger scoop scrambled eggs out onto two plates, their unorthodox situation suddenly seemed perfectly clear. It was something that Roger had said to him a few weeks before, something that Brian hadn't really considered fully until now

Unaware of Brian’s realization, Roger padded around the kitchen looking for clean cutlery, his hair still unruly tied up and his shoulders slightly hunched, as if trying to make himself look smaller. 

"We’ve been doing this all wrong." Brian said, his voice sounding loud in the otherwise quiet apartment 

Roger froze in the middle of the kitchen, a fork and spoon in one hand and a confused look on his face, "What are you talking about?" 

Brian cleared his throat, "This relationship. Us. You were right, we’ve been doing this in the wrong order." 

Roger brought the eggs to the small table and sat down, placing the fork beside Brian’s plate. Brian followed him and sat down, taking a bite of the breakfast--he really was rather hungry. After eating a mouthful Roger turned to face the guitarist, his blue eyes were filled with guilt and uncertainty. "Look, I know I have been sending you hints that I want something romantic, but I think I can’t do it right now. Not after what happened last night." 

Brian covered Rogers hand with his own, “Good. I don’t think it’s wise either. But I was hoping we could still be friends.” 

“ _ Friends, _ ” Roger mulled the word over, it sounded like everything he wanted and more. He looked down at the guitarists long-fingered hand resting on his, then looked up at his face. The starts of a cheeky smile adorning his face, “Freddie and John did sort of ask me to join the band..”

Brian smiled softly, a flicker of hope warming his chest. “That’s right! Can’t lose the best drummer we’ve had now can we?”

Roger smiled around his bite of toast. “Good point, don’t think it gets better than me.”

“Mmmm” Brian hummed as he sipped from his mug. “Don’t get  _ too  _ cocky.” 

Roger laughed, his head thrown back his hands covering his chest, his nose scrunched up adorably. Something warm bloomed in Brian’s chest and he tried to push it down, for Roger’s sake more than his own, “Yeah, he have  _ definitely  _ been doing this wrong.” 

Roger raised one eyebrow, "Oh yeah?" 

"Yeah,  _ Roggie, _ " Brian chuckled, "I want to get to know you better, to be your friend for real— to know the  _ real  _ Roger Taylor and not the made-up version of yourself that you created to fit into my silly plan. We’ve been ‘boyfriends’ for weeks now but I don’t even know your middle name!” 

Roger opened his mouth to speak, but Brian put his hand up urging him to stop. 

“I want you around and I want you to truly be part of the band— not having to always worry about messing up our story, or keeping your temper in check for my or my friends’ sake. I want to know what you actually like and don't like, I want to know your favourite colour and what you are like when you are sad, frustrated, angry, happy, jealous, curious, disgusted, anxious," Brian paused to catch his breath, "I want to be more than your fake-boyfriend, I  _ want _ to be your  _ friend.”  _ He could see Roger taking in all he confessed and was suddenly afraid he had said too much; was terrified that he had built all this up in his head and maybe Roger wasn’t truly interested in him at all and—

" _ Meddows _ ." Roger said finally

"What?" Brian asked.

A smile spread across Roger's face, "If you really must know, my middle name is Meddows. Roger  _ Meddows  _ Taylor." 

Brian grinned, holding out his hand as relief flooded his system, "Brian  _ Harold  _ May. Pleasure to meet you." 

Roger bit his lower lip trying not to beam and failing miserably. He shook Brian's hand firmly, "The pleasure is all mine. I have it on good authority that you are a truly excellent  _ cuddler _ " 

"Oh really?" Brian raised his eyebrows, "Who told you that?" 

Roger shrugged, "A friend of mine, Mr May. I believe is name is Roggie? Know him?”

"Ah yes," Brian nodded, "Roggie. Lovely chap, make sure to send him my regards next time you see him, will you?" 

"Will do." 

Brian couldn’t help but laugh at that. “So we’re really doing this? Starting fresh, clean slate?”

Roger nodded, then stopped. If they really were starting off on a new foot—

“I, uh— there’s something I should  _ probably _ tell you.”

Brian cocked his head to the side, confused by Rogers sudden seriousness. “Sure, what is it?”

Roger took a deep breath, knowing deep down this was the right thing to do.

“Before I do tell you, just promise me you won’t freak out?”

Brian still looked confused, “I will try?”

In for a penny, in for a pound. “I saw you perform before!” Roger blurted out, and once the dam was opened, it felt like he couldn’t stop the flood, “Mr. Lee is my uncle, he told me one of his bartenders was a talented musician and invited me to the bar one night and I—” he looked up quickly before covering his face with his hands, his face felt like it was on fire, “God, I’m so sorry, Bri! I know I must sound like a right loony but I swear I wasn’t  _ stalking _ you or anything, I was just in the pub for a drink and when I saw you there after we matched I didn’t know how to tell you that I’d already seen you play before, and that I really liked Queen, and—”

Brian gently peeled Rogers hands off his face, “Rog, you’re rambling.” 

That shut him up properly, and made him blush even harder.

There was a beat of silence before Brian wiggled his eyebrows “So, a super fan?” 

“Oh, shut it asshole.” 

“I’ll have to go into your bedroom later on, make sure that the poster you  _ do  _ have of me are flattering enough.” 

“ _ Brian. _ ” 

“I was afraid you were going to tell me you were a murderer or something.” Brian said teasingly, “Though stalker isn’t much better if you ask me.” 

Roger threw a piece of his toast at Brian’s head, the crumbs getting all over his hair and shoulders. 

They both burst into laughter seconds later. Then spent the morning getting to know each other better over toast and tea and later venturing out for proper food— with all the time he had been spending at Brian’s, Roger hadn’t really done a decent grocery run in a while. They goofed around through the aisles of Tesco and curled up on the couch that night with a dvd of  _ A Clockwork Orange _ . Roger fell asleep halfway through on his shoulder, his expression soft and peaceful— Brian couldn't have asked for anything better. 


	14. i cry in earnest once a month

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No real Maylor in this chapter, but a lot of bonding between our three boys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Texting is Back! Im so excited! I hope you like this chapter!

**_One Month After the Incident;_ **

_‘3 queens and one (1) old lady’_

**_The Impostor:_ ** _u said eggs, milk and what else_

**_The Impostor:_ ** _?????_

**_Melina:_ ** _sugar_

**_Melina:_ ** _really darling, it’s like the fifth time you’ve asked me_

**_Melina:_ ** _get a grip, taylor_

**_The Impostor:_ ** _Fuck You_

**_Diqi <3: _ ** _Bring some cereal too_

**_Maggie:_ ** _And some chamomile tea, please. -Bri._

 

The room dissolved into laughter at the thought of Roger reading the message and angrily cursing at Brian for his texting habits. He and John were shaking with laughter while Brian sat, smiling smugly, on the chair closest to the fireplace. A book in his lap and his cellphone in the other.

 

_‘3 queens and one (1) old lady’_

**_The Impostor:_ ** _Fuck You, too._

 

Freddie was comfortably nestled in the sofa, a pen in one hand and the other tangled in his boyfriend’s unruly hair, while a cheesy love song streamed out of the old turntable John had managed to fix up. Their single Billie Holiday record had been playing on repeat for the better part of the afternoon, yet none of them seemed to mind.

These were Freddie’s favourite days, when the rain was pitter-pattering lightly against the window panes, the house smelled of the cinnamon rolls which were baking in the oven, and his boyfriend was draped over his lap.

The only thing that was be missing from the happy scene at the moment was their drummer.

Roger had almost instantly fit in perfectly in their small family, a contrast to Brian and Deacy’s calm and a counter balance to Freddie’s much more animated personality. They had found that in the short months that Roger had joined their group they had grown so used to his presence that not having him there was jarring, to say the least. His absence was a tangible thing, yet in this case it was their own fault that he wasn’t there with them.

They had kicked him out the night before, when the small amount of clothes that he had in Brian’s closet had all been deemed dirty, and all of his contact lenses had been used up.

They had told him to go to his flat, get clean clothes, buy new contact lenses, and get some groceries on his way back. It had started to get ridiculous as he stumbled around wearing Freddie's old Rolling Stones t-shirt, tripping on the hem of Brian’s too-large pyjama pants. Then there was the day he’d tried to justify a Star Wars shirt and Deacy’s old ripped jeans as the wardrobe of a respectable pre-med student. In fact, it was getting so ridiculous that Freddie had seriously considered just asking Roger to move in with them.

Not that it would make much of a difference except that the rent would be split 4 ways instead of 3.

He had been trying to find the right moment to talk about it with the two other occupants of their flat, but always found himself being cut short by Roger’s arrival or his fear of the request being met badly. Which was quite unlikely, given that they had all become quite smitten with the blonde drummer.

A particularly loud clap of thunder was accompanied by a flash of lightning; the lights in the flat flickered slightly and the record skipped a beat or two. It only lasted a moment, then Freddie looked down and resumed running his hands through Deacy’s hair.

John sat up suddenly, closing his book.

“We should ask Roger to come live with us” he said, as if he had read his boyfriends mind.

Freddie smiles and sighed in relief, “Oh, I’m glad we can agree that it’s about time!”

“It’s just ridiculous not to,” John continued, “We like him, he likes us, and selling furniture and splitting expenses could really help towards recording our first album.”

Freddie frowned, “Selling _our_ furniture?”

John nodded, as if it was the most logical thing in the world, “He has furniture, we have furniture too, we could just see which is in a better and sell what we don’t want.”

“That’s brilliant Deaks!” Freddie took the chance to give John a quick peck, “ _You’re_ brilliant. What do you think, Maggie?”

Brian made a pained face, “I like the idea, it’s just—”

“Oh, come on!” Freddie interrupted, “It’s not like he doesn’t pretty well live here already!”

“I know, but—!”

“But?” John asked, “He sleeps in your bed every night Brian! It’s not like you have a problem with him being around!”

Brian made a frustrated noise, “Will you just let me finish?!”

That shut them up, and soon they were both expectantly waiting for Brian to explain himself. Freddie felt especially confused, fully knowing that Brian was currently head over heels for Roger, and couldn’t imagine what possible objections he could have to him moving in. Brian muttered something softly and Freddie frowned.

“Speak up, Bri we can’t hear you.”

Brian nervously tucked his hair behind his ear and cleared his throat, “If he moved in we wouldn’t _need_ to share a bed anymore.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Freddie’s felt his heart melt a little for his awkward friend, “oh _, Brian._ That is so cute.”

“You’re utterly fucked, mate ” John added.

Brian glared at Deacy, which lost its effect somewhat when combined with the blush spreading across his cheeks. “Like you two are any better!”

 

_‘3 queens and one (1) old lady’_

**_The Impostor:_ ** _bri there is no chamomile tea! :((_

**_The Impostor:_ ** _I’ll bring you some other types of tea to make up for it_

**_The Impostor:_ ** _sorry <3 _

 

“I feel like Roger won’t be keen on sleeping alone either,” Freddie commented as Side B of the record came to an end and Deaky got up off of the sofa to change it, “you could always talk to him about it.”

“ _Freddie._ ”

“I know, I know, you’re giving him his time, but you also have to think about how it’s hurting you.” There was a beat of silence, before ‘ _I’ll be Seeing You’_ started to play softly, “This waiting _is_ hurting you, too Bri.”

Brian let his eyes drift over to his phone, which was still displaying Roger’s message on the screen. Freddie watched as his friend’s eyes softened and his shoulders dropped; he couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him, not to mention a little guilty.

He couldn’t imagine what it would be like for Brian, finding someone like Roger, having to pretend for god knows how long, before getting smacked in the face with the reality that they wouldn’t be able to get together because of what _Freddie_ had done.

Yes, he most definitely still felt very guilty for _that_ particular incident.  

The younger man’s eyes drifted from the phone to the single photo that had been left on their wall after Tim’s true nature was revealed. It was a snapshot of the three of them, huddled together in the snow, drinking hot chocolate.

Freddie could still remember that afternoon quite clearly. It was back when they weren’t a group yet, back when Deaky was just his friend, and Brian was just a nerdy guy with a strong personality and flair for the guitar. For a second Freddie wondered what their life would have been like if Roger had been a part of that photo.

Would they have already released an album? Would Brian and Roger be a couple? Would they be rich and famous by then? Or would their band have fallen apart before things even picked up?  

“I can’t do that to him.” He was taken out of his thoughts by Brian’s voice, “I can’t tell him to hurry up because I no longer want to be single. It doesn’t seem fair. Even if it hurts me to know it was so close but seems so far away.”

“Brian—”

“Let him finish, Fred.”

The guitarist shot Deaky a grateful look, “He needs his space, so I will give it to him. He needs time to get his thoughts in order, so I will wait for him. I can do that, I don’t mind. I’ve survived this long haven’t I?”

Freddie could see the reasoning behind his thinking, but couldn’t help but feel a tug in his heartstrings on behalf of his friend. Brian May, his soul brother, his _Maggie_ deserved the world and more. He did not deserve to have to wait for a love that in the end might not come to be.  “Does he knows this?” He asked.

Brian bit his lower lip, then shook his head, “Well, sort of? I told him that I wanted to be his friend and give him time but...” Brian shrugged.

The thought left unfinished, Freddie let it hang in the air until it became clear that Brian wasn’t going to add anything more.

“I think you should tell him.” In the end it wasn’t him who spoke, but Deaky, “Tell him that you are willing to wait for him. Make it clear you aren’t going anywhere if he doesn’t want you to go.”

Brian frowned again, “That’s what I was planning on doing.”

“And what exactly is stopping you?” Deaky pushed.

“I guess..” Brian paused. “I guess I just don’t want to say that and end up pining for someone for years and never getting anything in return.”

That hit Freddie where it hurt, mainly because he knew it was partially their fault that Brian was feeling this way. All of the teasing, in their minds, was always just that, teasing. But on more than one occasion Freddie found had himself wondering if they sometimes took it a little too far.

Clearly they had, far enough for Brian to feel so ashamed about his lack of love life that he had decided to find a fake boyfriend _Tinder,_ of all places.

“Maggie, _darling_ , you have that drummer wrapped around your pinky finger. I’m pretty sure he would wait a thousand years for you, too.” He smiled reassuringly.

 

_Private Chat_

**_The Impostor:_ ** _freddie_

**_The Impostor:_ ** _m8_

**_The Impostor:_ ** _brian likes cheesecake right?_

**_The Impostor:_ ** _i want to get him something nice_

 

“And if he isn’t willing to wait a thousand years for you, then I guess we’ll just have to kill him,” Deaky said ,with a straight face.

That made Brian laugh, and Freddie took the opportunity to text a quick, ‘ _yeh’_ back to the blonde, before continuing with the conversation at hand. “ I don’t think we have to plan his murder just yet. First you’ll  have to talk to him, invite him to move in, and then declare your undying love for him. If all that doesn’t convince him, _then_ we can start planning his murder.”

Brian laughed again, only this time it sounded more like a nervous kind of laugh, and Freddie just wanted to wrap a blanket around Brian’s shoulders, to keep him safe from all the things that affected his sensitive friend so deeply. Finally, the guitarist turned back towards his friends and smiled softly, “Thanks guys.”

“Don’t thank us yet,” Deaky said, “Thank us on your wedding day!” He winked.

Brian chuckled, “Okay Deaks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

The song changed from Billie Holiday’s soft crooning to a long trumpet solo, before Brian spoke again.

“Do you really think he’d wait for me too?”

There was a soft ding from the kitchen, announcing that the cinnamon rolls were ready to be taken out of the oven, and both Freddie and John ignored it in favour of finish their talk with Brian.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Brian,” John said, he might have been the youngest, but he was often the most sincere, “he’d wait an eternity for you, that ridiculous _satsuma boy_.”

That seemed to reassure Brian, he seemed to relax somewhat at the mention of the nickname and of the ridiculous story they had crafted for the sake of his grand deception.

“Brian, darling, come take my place. I’ll go make sure the flat doesn’t burn down with the cinnamon buns.”

The younger man did as he was asked, crawling over the sofa to lean against Deaky’s back while Freddie went to the kitchen to take care of the baking. He took meticulous care when it came to baking; carefully spreading the icing on every single treat, and lovingly sprinkling them with what little cinnamon and sugar they had leftover. Once they were done he came back to the living room, only to find that the record had finished and his two boys had fallen asleep.

Smiling fondly at them, he placed the treats on the tea table, and turned the vinyl over yet another time. A lovely melody filled the apartment once again and Freddie couldn’t help but wonder how people could possibly prefer phone speakers to the heavenly sound of a record player. Then soft rattling came from the front door as Roger stepped into the flat. Freddie went over to help Roger with his backpack or the shopping bags, and found that Roger was only carrying only one of them.

“Liz, darling, where are your clean clothes? You did do laundry didn’t you?” He gave Roger the serious eye.

Roger smiled at Freddie shaking his hair lightly to rid himself of the few raindrops that hadn’t soaked through his hair. He left the bags on the kitchen counter and smiled at Freddie as he began undoing his coat, “Of course I did laundry! But don’t worry, I’ll go home tonight. Even I know when I’ve overstayed my welcome, Fred.”

Freddie crossed the few steps in between them in the blink of an eye, and started buttoning up his coat. The younger man just stared at him in bewilderment. “What are you doing?”

“Don’t be daft, dear,” he chided Roger, “I’m buttoning your coat again.”

“What for?” Roger asked, still clearly confused.

Freddie smiled brightly, “‘Because we are going back out to get your clothes, lovie. Why else?”

The smile Roger gave him was enough to make the singers chest fill with warmth. He could only imagine how he’d look once they asked him to move in— Freddie couldn’t wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a slut for kudos, comments, and feedback, so please tell me what you thought about this chapter! 
> 
> Also... 
> 
> Swing by [my tumblr (@iamnotbrianmay)](https://iamnotbrianmay.tumblr.com/) and say hi or swing by my [ other maylor fanfic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17697668) and give it a read!
> 
> Or...
> 
> Go give my amazing beta some love [through tumblr](https://riveter-rose.tumblr.com/)! I love you, Rose! Thanks for another amazing chapter!


	15. when the weather turns to freezing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The three times Roger's bandmates said 'I Love You' to him, and the three times he said it back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fucking loved this chapter, writing it, planning it, and reading it over and over. I don't know why but I feel like it's the best thing I have ever writen for this story, even if it's just a time skip chapter. Now, I know what you might all be thinking, you are missing stuff, Maria. What about the Moving in? Or the healing on the part of Roger? But I feel like those things deserve their own fanfic, you know? So what I'm going to do is that once I finish this story I'm going to write their stories. I have planned them out completely already, don't you worry. 
> 
> For all of you who want to know their lenghts: 
> 
> \- Moving In - Three chapters (about 10k - 15k)   
> \- Aftermath - Five Chapters (18k - 20k) 
> 
> So yeah, I hope y'all are as excited as I am for these stories.

**_Three Months After the Incident;_ **

 

Surprisingly, Deaky is the first one to say ‘I Love You’ to Roger. 

It’s Friday night, and instead of being out with his friends he’s stuck at the flat with a fever. He’s lying in his bed sick and miserable, trying not to feel like the world is ending when he gets the text message that sets the night off. 

 

**_—Bri:_ ** _ rogieeeeeeeeeee _

 

Roger groaned as he heard the annoying  _ ping! _ of his phone. He recognized the text-tone he had set for Brian— it was that alone that motivated him to turn over and grab his phone. As he quickly unlocked it his fever-addled brain reminded him that he would have to text back while looking at the painfully bright screen; something that would not help his current pounding headache. 

 

**_—Bri:_ ** _ why didnt you coem?  _

 

Roger frowned as he read the uncharacteristically bad spelling and grammar in Brian’s texts. It was also missing the ever present addition of ‘ _ —Bri.’ a  _ gag that the older man was adamandant on using ever since Roger had complained about his texting style. Then he remembered that Freddie had taken Brian to the newest bar in town, an over the top place called Verona which Freddie seemed to adore, and left him and John to fend for themselves. 

As far as he knew Brian never got drunk, or at least had  _ never _ had gotten drunk until Roger came into his life, which was something he was not happy about. Not that Roger didn’t like when Brian had fun or went out to clubs with Freddie and John, but he couldn’t help but worry that he was a bad influence; that his actions were mirroring  _ Tim’s. _

He blinked a few times, trying to will away the drunken typing, but when he looked back the evidence was still there— as clear as day, and a painful as poison. Roger typed out a quick reply, not wanting Brian to think that he was ignoring him. 

**_Taylor:_ ** _ r u drunk? _

 

Roger started biting his lip nervously, thinking about what would follow next in the line of things that he was going to infect Brian with. His feverish brain was all too happy to provide him with answers; everything ranging from his horrible clothing and love for  _ k-pop ( _ of all things!) to things like smoking, sometimes even the occasional joint or other, somewhat more than harmful, substances. 

Brian’s answer wasn’t comforting at all. 

 

**_—Bri:_ ** _ ts nice! _

**_—Bri:_ ** _ would be nicre if u were heer _

 

Roger shut his phone off without answering. Unable to get comfortable, he threw the covers off and wobbled into the kitchen. So what if he was sick? He was in desperate need of a drink— maybe two—something that had been strictly forbidden by the other boys in the house now that his body was shivering with fever and he was taking medicine for his rattling cough and  sore throat. 

They had been performing in an outdoor stage a week ago when Roger started to feel this way, light headed and extremely hot. As the night went on he felt progressively worse and by the time they had finished playing he was feeling like death warmed over. After their final song the small restaurant crowd had cheered and while the others had felt high with the adrenaline rush, Roger just wanted a hot drink and a place to rest, like a coffin. 

The next morning he had woken up with an aching throat, runny nose and a fever. He felt as if someone was sitting on his chest and was unable to get out of bed without feeling like he was going to pass out. Sleeping alone didn’t make him feel any better; since he had moved in he and Brian didn’t need to share a bed anymore, quite possibly the only negative of his new living situation. Living with them all also meant he had a front row seat to what he had done to the older man and he wasn’t sure he deserved to share his bed anyways. 

Roger unscrewed the lid from the bottle of cheap Vodka he had stuffed deep into the back of the pantry and poured himself a glass. He knew his bandmates would give him a hard time if they found out about it, but at this point he didn’t really care all that much. He only stopped when the glass was half full, clear liquid twinkling in the kitchen light, promising some relief. Roger put the cap back on and stuffed the bottle back where it belonged. 

His plan to get shitfaced was regretfully cut short when he turned around to find John standing in the doorway, his head tilted to the side and his arms crossed over his chest. His stare wasn’t angry or annoyed, but a mix of curiosity and concern.    
“I could have sworn we told you not to drink while sick.” 

Roger’s fingers twitched as his grip tightened on the glass, a little afraid that John was going to take it away from him.

“I needed a drink,” he explained. 

John sighed, nodding for Roger to follow him into the living room, and for some strange reason he followed. They sat on the couch together, legs crossed, then John said something that surprised him, “If you can give me a valid reason as to why you need a drink I will let you finish that glass. I might even join you.” 

Roger’s eyes widened, and he was about to ask what had come over John before the younger man interrupted him. 

“We will talk about that, or about something else if you want to, until Freddie and Brian come stumbling through the door, after which we become four drunks instead of two. I promise I will do this, but you have to give me a  _ valid  _ reason.” 

Ever since Roger had moved in John, though quiet and often introverted, had been extremely supportive, keeping him standing on his own two feet when he started to feel like the room seemed was spinning out of his control. In moments exactly like the one they were having right now. He was staring at Roger with a patient smile, one hand resting lightly on his knee and the other extended so that Roger could put the glass on his palm. It seemed like a fair trade, a reason for a drink. So nodded in agreement and handed John his vodka. 

The younger man smiled, placing the alcohol on the table before turning back to Roger and started idly tracing circles on his knee. Roger sniffed twice (damn his runny nose) and thought about what to say.  _ Fuck it _ he thought, before letting the words pour out of him. It was as if someone else was talking, telling John about his worries and his guilt, but he was still very much present as he watched his friend react to all he was saying. He could the various emotions in his eyes, his expression changing from neutral to angry, then flickering again to sadness. Roger heard his own voice, the tone in which he spoke, soft and sad and urgent— even if he wasn’t quite in control of the words he was saying. What he noticed most of all was how tenderly John reached out with a tissue to dry the tears ( _ when had he started crying? _ ) that were sliding down his cheeks as he spoke. 

When Roger returned from his— well he didn’t quite know what to call it apart from an “ _out of body experience_ ” but that didn’t seem quite right— he looked away from John. Suddenly he was aware and ashamed of the fact that, one, he didn’t quite know what he had said, and two, probably had over-shared to someone who didn’t want to hear his personal battles. It had been different than when he had told Brian, he had been hyper-aware of every word he was saying and how Brian would hear it; making sure that he didn’t make a fool of himself. With John however it was almost as if his mind had switched to autopilot, and he remained unable to act on anything beyond registering John’s emotions and thinking ‘ _Oh god, what am I doing?’_

One moment he was trying to justify his reason for a damn drink, the next he was ripping open his chest, everything bared before John’s eyes. He prepared himself for anger, or disgust, or maybe even John telling him what he most feared; that he was right. He would tell him that he needed to back off; keep as far away from Brian as possible. Instead John, the least touchy-feely member of their group, leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Roger’s shoulders. Putting one hand between his shoulder blades and one on the back of his head, then resting his head on the side of Roger’s neck. 

He didn’t know if it was the fever or if he’d always been that soft, but the gesture was enough to break Roger. He gripped the back of John’s shirt and was unable to stop the hot tears that escaped. John simply held him, didn’t pull away or complain about the puddle of tears and snot he was probably making on his shirt; he just let him cry for as long as he needed to.

When he finally untangled himself from John, the younger man pressed their foreheads together, and smiled at Roger, “Y’know, I love you, Rog.” he gave Roger’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. 

That made Roger chuckle, the last few tears that had been left in his eyes streamed down his face, and neither of them bothered to dry them, “I love you too John, don’t know how we’ll break this to Freddie and Bri though.” John smiled, glad to see even a glimmer of his friend’s regular self.

They stay like that for a few minutes, eyes closed and foreheads pressed together before John pulled back. Roger wanted to whine at the loss of contact, but John took his hand in his instead; it wasn’t quite the same, but it was still comforting.

John took a deep breath, “You aren’t like  _ Tim,  _ you do know that, right Rog?” 

Rogers eyes flew open and he looked at John, his grey eyes watching him, his expression serious and sincere. Suddenly Roger feels a flush of anger.

“How can you  _ say  _ that?” 

John seemed unfazed by his anger, “I find it quite easy to tell the truth.” 

“ _ John—”  _

_ “Roger,”  _ His tone is not angry, but he cuts off Roger’s rebuttal. Roger resentfully closes his mouth, his body trembling slightly as John continues. “You are not  _ him _ . You will never be  _ him.  _ And just because you showed Brian how to enjoy more than one drink does not mean that you are following in  _ his  _ footsteps.” 

“But  _ John _ —” 

“Did Brian ever refuse a drink?” 

Roger hesitates, “No, but–” 

“Did you force him to drink?” 

Roger frowned, “Kind of—?” 

“Oh bullshit!” John snapped, “You didn’t force him to do anything, Roger. Brian is soft, yes, but he can also be a stubborn son of a bitch. If he wanted to stay sober he would have, be it by telling you to fuck off or by sipping on a coke or something.” 

“If I’m not a bad influence then why is he keep drinking more now?” 

John shrugged, “Simple, he likes it.” 

“That’s why,” Roger insisted, “I did that! Brian liking alcohol is my fault! Just like it was  _ Tim’s  _ fault that I began smoking.” 

The silence that followed was deafening and John’s hard stare softened, “Look, Roger I know this will be hard to believe, but Brian had actually tasted alcohol before you came around. I will not sit by and let you torture yourself for something that is not your fault! This isn’t something that anyone can be blamed for alright? Brian is just going out and doing things normal twenty-one-year-olds do. If anything, you helped him loosen up, brought him out of his shell a little. It’s a good thing! ” 

“Deaky…” 

“No, I’m serious. As long as it doesn’t become a destructive habit, I don’t see any harm.” 

Roger thought about that for a moment, “As long as you help him quit if it gets out of hand…” 

John scoffed, “Of course we will! That’s what family is for.” 

He said it so matter-of-factly, Roger yearned for that kind of belonging.  Warmth filled his chest at the thought of someday being part of their family, someday being called Deaky’s brother, or Freddie’s “ _ constant annoyance _ ”. Maybe even Brian’s significant other. But for the time being he would happily settle for friend, roommate, and bandmate. “Now, about that drink...” 

John groaned, “I was kind of hoping that you had forgotten about that,” he reached for the glass, taking a swig before handing it to Roger, “but a promise is a promise.” 

Roger brought the glass to his lips but hesitated, “Wait, do you think anything bad will happen if I drink while on this medication?” 

John shook his head, “Naw, it’s over-the-counter stuff. Not strong enough to kill you, but it’s strong enough to get you hammered faster than usual.” 

The grin that spread across Roger’s face was mischievous, to say the least, “ _ Perfect.”  _

The funny thing was that when Brian and Freddie finally stumbled in an hour later, they were the ones who had to get John and Roger to bed, not the other way around.    
  


**_Five Months After the Incident:_ **

The next one to say I love you to Roger is Freddie. 

The flat was silent when Roger woke up, except for the quiet snores coming from Brian’s side of the room. He rolled over and frowned once he saw the ungodly hour at which he woke up. Still, he was feeling much better after recovering from that god-awful flu and couldn’t help but smile at Brian’s strangely adorable snoring. 

Deciding he might as well get up and make some coffee, he peeled back the covers and moved around the room as silently as he could to avoid waking the other man.

As he slowly shut the door behind him and turned towards the kitchen he realised that he wasn’t the only one awake. Usually the most likely to sleep in ‘till noon, Freddie, was deep in concentration; scribbling on a piece of paper, shoulders hunched and hair tied back into a low ponytail. There was soft murmuring every few seconds and Roger decided to clear his throat to avoid scaring him when he walked into the kitchen.

Freddie man turned around, and Roger was quick to notice his watery eyes his slightly red nose. He rushed forward then, placing a hand on Freddie’s back, “Fred are you okay? You haven’t caught my cold have you?”

Freddie made a gesture with his hand, “No, no I’m fine Roger. I don’t know what came over me.” 

Okay  _ now _ Roger was really worried about him. “You don’t cry easily.” 

“I know.” 

“And when you do, you do it in private.” 

“How is it you know so much about me already and we haven’t even recorded our first album?” 

“I notice things” Roger shrugged. “And we’ll get there soon. But don’t change the topic, Freddie. What’s wrong?” 

The older man bit his lip, looking at Roger with misty eyes before he seemed to accept that Roger wasn’t going to back off until he got an answer. His brown eyes flickered back to the paper on the table and Roger followed his gaze. 

It was quite messy, doodles and lyrics seemed twined together in a cacophony of colours and notes, but the song was there. And in between the doodles of flowers, hand-holding, and the disturbing picture of someone with their eyes, mouth and ears covered, were some of the rawest lyrics Roger had ever read. 

He could hear the sad notes of a ballad, the sweet puring of John’s Bass and Brian’s Red Special, he could sense the sadness behind the piece, and for some reason dreaded getting to the end. 

Then he read the last line and it all made sense. ‘ _... ‘cause regardless of the words I’ve said, I’ve never had the courage to say I’m sorry _ .’ 

He could see how the hands which were intertwined resembled his and Brian’s hands. One had the tell-tale scar that Roger bared on his thumb and the other hand had its nails painted white. The flowers on the sides seemed random enough, but Roger had been around Freddie enough to know anything Freddie drew was seldom  _ random.  _ And only after close inspection did Roger realise that the man looked like him, long blond hair, feminine features, and suffering in silence. He’d known Freddie had a knack for drawing but this was...

They were both quiet for a long time, and Roger wondered if Brian or John would wake up before they managed to say what was on their minds. The words seemed to be stuck inside of him and he found himself unable to drag his eyes away from the paper. Roger wasn’t sure he could speak to Freddie even if he wanted to. 

In the end Roger he didn’t have to.

“You know, I never said sorry for what I did to you.” Freddie said quietly. 

When Roger finally turned towards the older man he couldn’t help but feel pained, because his friend genuinely believed that it had been his fault, somehow. That somehow Freddie was expected to know that one of his oldest friends was an asshole behind closed doors; and that the world was small enough for Brian’s old crush to be his ex. 

“You didn’t need to,” his voice came out as a pathetic croak, and Roger cursed himself internally.

“Of course I did, darling,” he whispered back, “of course I did. If it wasn’t for me you would have asked Brian on that date of yours. If it wasn’t for me, you would have had a nice night, if it wasn’t for me he wouldn’t have—” 

Freddie looked away, hastily brushing away a tear that had broken free. 

“It was my fault that night went so horribly wrong and the worst part is that I never had the balls to say I’m sorry.” 

For the first time in his life Roger Taylor was happy that he woke up at six in the morning and that he had decided to stay up instead of rolling over and going back to sleep. God knows if they would be having this conversation otherwise. 

Roger was glad for the quiet of the apartment, for the fact that right now they were the only ones awake. It was only because it was so quiet that Freddie was able to hear the words Roger whispered next. 

“Freddie, look at me.” 

The singer hesitated before turning his head around, and Roger kneeled beside his chair so that they were at the same level. 

“What happened that night was  _ my  _ fault as much as it was  _ yours. _ ” 

He opened his mouth to protest, but Roger brought a finger up and placed it across Freddie’s lips. 

“By which I’m saying that it’s not your fault at all.” 

A loose floorboard creaked in one of the bedrooms but Roger ignored it for the time being, knowing he needed to get this off his chest. 

“It’s taken me months to realise it, but what happened that night wasn’t anyone’s fault but Tim’s.” Roger finally lifted his finger off Freddie’s lip, “It took me months ‘till I realised that, and it may take you months to realise that too, but that’s okay. I’ll be here to remind you if you ever doubt it.” 

There was a short silence before Freddie smiled, “I should be the one comforting you.” 

“Nah,” Roger said, for the first time in months not feeling like a fragile mess. 

“I’ve had more than my fair share of comforting words. Now it’s time for me to comfort you. This friendship goes both ways right?” 

Freddie blinked owlishly, which was a very rare expression for him. “What did we do before you came into our lives, dear?” 

“Crash, burn, and tease poor Brian mercilessly?” Roger shrugged. 

They both started laughing at that, Roger leaning forward to put his head on Freddie’s lap and Freddie running his fingers through Roger’s blond locks, “Seriously Freddie, you don’t have to sorry.” 

“But what if I want too?” 

Roger considered that for a moment, “Then I guess I’ll take it. But only if it’s the last time you say that to me, deal?” 

“The last time ever?” 

“No dufus, about this particular topic! I’ve known you for a while now, give me some credit. You’re bound to fuckup something sooner or later.” 

There was a short breathy laugh that filled Roger’s heart with love, and then Freddie bent down to press a quick kiss on his head. “I’m sorry, darling. For everything.” 

“I know, Freddie.” Roger answered, “And it’s okay, I forgive you.” It was odd how much lighter things felt between the two of them. 

For a second Roger wondered how he had gotten so lucky, how he had managed to find this small home away from home, this group of people which he understood so well. His boys, who he could fight with and insult, only to make up a few hours later as if nothing had happened. Roger also wondered how he had survived before this, before  _ them _ . 

“You know, I’m starting to have these really cheesy thoughts about how much I love you,” Freddie whispered as he resumed running his hands through Roger’s hair, and Roger’s feelings seemed to be amplified by three hundred. 

“Oh good god,” he said teasingly, his words slightly muffled, “ you  _ and _ John!? Now we’re really going to have some explaining to do to poor Brian!”

Freddie smacked his head playfully and Roger chuckled. “I love you too, Fred. Very much.” 

There was another long moment of silence in which Roger considered closing his eyes and drifting off. He wasn’t comfortable, or particularly sleepy, but Freddie’s hands worked like magic on him, and the only way he managed to snap out of his haze was when Freddie spoke again. 

“Okay, I know Brian said pestering you was completely off limits, but honestly darling I’m dying to know.” 

Roger regretfully lifted his head to look at him, “What’s up?” 

“Are you in love with him?” Freddie asked, “Or do you at least like him a little bit after all this time?” 

Roger realized he didn’t feel uncomfortable talking about this with Freddie. Maybe it was the honest curiosity in the man’s voice, or the way that they seemed to be baring their souls for each other to see this morning, but Roger let out a dreamy sigh. 

Then wrinkled his nose at his reaction. 

“Freddie you have no idea,” he groaned, getting up and sitting up on the other chair so that he could look at the older man. His voice was no longer dreamy, it was rather like he was annoyed at himself, for betraying his feelings so easily, “I think he’s making me stupid! I really can’t find another explanation for what I feel. It’s like he walks into a room and it becomes brighter, he plays guitar and it sounds perfect, and he smiles— oh  _ god _ , don’t get me started on his smile.” His head hit the table with a soft thunk. 

Freddie chuckled, “You really  _ are _ fucked, aren’t you?” 

“Beyond belief,” he answered, matter of factly. He looked back up, “Honestly, Fred, it’s gotten ridiculous! That man could ask me to roll around on the floor like a dog and I wouldn’t even bother to ask what for.” 

At that Freddie laughed loudly, throwing his head back and bringing a hand to his chest, while Roger sat across from him feeling pathetic, “It’s absurd, it really is.” 

Freddie looked at him slyly, “Then tell him.” 

Roger could feel his heart start to race, could hear the heavy beat. The thought of being Brian’s  _ something  _ terrified him beyond belief, made him feel like he was standing on the edge of a precipice, one step from plummeting to the ground. His palms actually started to sweat. Roger often thought of  _ relationships _ being somewhat similar to base jumping. You put your life on the line to jump into the great unknown, all the while your actions or a faulty parachute could mean the difference between life and death. How could you do that when you don’t know how it’s going to end? Roger felt like he couldn’t rely on himself not to mess things up epically. For one, he didn’t really know  _ how _ to be in a relationship. For another matter, did they ever really go well? Looking back at his past experiences, Roger just wasn’t sure. 

He couldn’t do that to Brian, could he? 

He couldn’t risk starting a relationship, all the while lugging his emotional baggage, his uncertainties, and his broken way of handling romantic feelings. Hell, Brian himself had admitted didn’t know what he was doing! It was terrifying and tempting at the same time because while he wasn’t sure he could give Brian what he deserved,  _ god  _ how he wanted to try.

“You’ll never know until you do,” Freddie said. Oh god, Roger didn’t realize he’d said that last part out loud.  “I may be a hopeless romantic but I care about my friends. You and Brian have something darling, don’t you think that’s worth the risk?”

“You think?” 

“I know,” Freddie stated, “and I also know that whole ‘ _ If you really love them, let them go _ ’ thing is absolute bullshit, and I  _ will  _ murder you if you try to do that to Brian.” 

“You wouldn’t murder me,” Roger said confidently. 

“And why not?” 

“Simple,” he replied, getting up to make them both some coffee, “who is going to help you choose your outfits? Deaky? Brian?” 

Freddie made a face, “Goodness, you’re right, I can’t murder you. I’ll find another way to get you Taylor!”   
  


**_Six Months After the Incident:_ **

Unsurprisingly, the last one to say I love you is Brian. 

They’d just finished recording the first song for their album after hours and hours of recordings and lyric tinkering. But by the end of the night  _ Seven Seas of Rhye _ was finally ready. Which meant they only had nine more songs to record before their first album would be complete.

Brian and Roger  were under direct orders not to go inside the flat that evening unless they wanted to hear things that might scar them for life, so after recording they took off to find a nice place to eat. Somewhere they could celebrate this (significant!) small victory, their one step closer to fame and notoriety. 

They walked around downtown, searching for somewhere that looked decent but cheap enough for them to properly celebrate, and in the end they settled for an 80’s themed restaurant. The bright lights and colours drew them in, and they stayed because of the smell wafting from the kitchen. 

The place looked promising, with reasonable prices, great music and greasy food that seemed perfect for the occasion. Rogers stomach started growling at the prospect of a burger and fries. They slid into a booth, and he started tapping a rhythm on the rubik's cube themed table. 

“D’you think we would have fit in more in the eighties?” Brian asked randomly. 

The question took Roger by surprise, but he didn’t have to think twice about the answer, “Are you kidding me? Of course not! Are you crazy? What would people in the eighties think about four gays in a glam rock band? The press would have eaten us  _ alive _ !” 

Brian laughed, then shrugged, “I guess you have a point, but our music fits the era quite well, don’t you think?” 

“Oh, perfectly,” Roger agreed, “And so do our stage costumes. But then again, I’d rather not be closeted and miserable, thank you very much.” 

“What concert would you have liked to play in?” 

Roger raised his eyebrows, “Is that even a question? Live Aid, of course.” 

“‘Cause of Led Zeppelin?” 

“‘Cause of Led Zeppelin.” Roger could imagine himself on that stage, playing for millions of people, and breathing the same air Led Zeppelin had done a few hours before, “I could kill a man to be there.” 

“So could I.” Brian agreed. 

The waiter arrived with the menus, interrupting their conversation, and started talking to them about the daily specials. They ended up ordering the chef recommended hamburger with cheese fries and a milkshake to share. He smiled and left them alone to discuss whatever they had been before he had arrived, walking away with a suggestive swing to his hips, and a wink towards Brian. 

Roger could see the man’s appeal, his sandy blond hair, large brown eyes and long limbs. If his heart hadn’t been completely enamoured with Brian he might have even thought about asking for his number. But how could he? The guitarist was right there, looking like an 80’s god in his loose white shirt, chocolate-brown curls framing his face. Brian, however, seemed very affected by the waiter’s attention, Roger could see a blush blooming across his cheeks. 

The younger man could hear his heart, and Freddie for that matter, screaming in protest as he placed his hands over Brian’s, “You could ask for his number, you know? I don’t want to stand in your way.” 

Brian frowned and tilted his head in confusion, “What are you talking about?” 

Roger nodded his head towards the counter where the waiter was leaning, talking to the chef, presumably about their orders.  “About blondie over there. He looked like he was interested in getting more than just your order.” 

“Yeah well, he should know better than to hit on someone who’s clearly taken.” He said indignantly. 

They both fell silent, the implication of Brian’s words finally hit him, and the night rapidly turned into a game of who could blush the deepest shade of red. 

“ Oh god, that’s embarrassing. I’m sorry Roger. And rude, definitely more rude than embarrassing. I know we’re not, you’re not not my anything yet but I sort of— I don’t know  _ what _ came over me, Rog, I’m sorry.” 

The thought came unbidden  _ Brian’s so cute when he’s jealous _ and Roger couldn’t contain the giggle that bubbled up in his throat. It was a nervous little thing, and it escaped him without his consent. But once he started he couldn’t stop, even though he knew how embarrassing he must sound; because of all the things he could have done, his body decided to start giggling like a twelve-year-old school girl. 

And as much as he loved the way Brian was looking at him amusedly, like he had hung the moon and stars, it was very much  _ not funny.  _ He looked like an idiot, he sounded like an idiot, and he couldn’t stop the bloody thing from escaping his lips. He tried covering his mouth with his hand, but to his dismay Brian just seemed to think that was  _ cuter  _ judging by his expression. 

“Oh Lord,” He said between giggles, “I hate myself.” 

That seemed to be enough to make Brian join in. He started to giggle quietly, trying to cover his face with both hands, and failing miserably to contain the sound of laughter. Maybe it was how tired they both felt, maybe the lack of sleep from trying to work, study, and record an album was finally catching up to them, or maybe it was the emotional exhaustion from trying so hard to repress their feelings for each other’s sake. But by the time the waiter came back with their food they had barely said another word, yet their stomachs hurt and their eyes were wet with tears caused by laughing for so long. 

They managed to contain themselves long enough to thank the waiter, but once he had left Brian looked at him with twinkling eyes, and a mischievous expression. Roger wiped his eyes, “Brian, no. Please stop. It hurts.” 

The older man put his hands up, “I’m not doing anything! I was just trying to apologize seconds before you had your hysteria attack.” 

“Yeah well,” He tried to defend himself, “you started laughing with me!.” 

“Couldn’t help it,” Brian said, “You’re just way too cute.” 

Suddenly Roger didn’t feel like laughing anymore. He blushed madly, looking down to his greasy burger and french fries. Brian seemed to sense his change in mood, and instantly tried to make it better, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me tonight. It seems I can’t help but put my foot in my mouth!”

“It’s fine, really Bri” Roger said as he stuffed a fry into his mouth, “I’m just not used to being the one blushing.” 

“Oh,” Brian raised his eyebrows, “How so?”

Roger rolled his shoulders “Well, I’m usually the one doing the flirting, and not being a mumbling, blushing, mess. I guess you’ve changed me, Brian Harold May.”

“Have I?” 

“Greatly,” Roger looked up at Brian through his lashes, the older boy was looking at him with curiosity, “I didn’t think I’d ever want to have a relationship with anyone after— well, you know.” 

He stuffed another fry into his mouth, chewing and swallowing it before continuing. 

“Ever since I came out of  _ that  _ shithole I’ve been a shag and run kind of guy. Never thought I would like someone as much as I like you.” 

“And that’s why you’re trying to set me up with the waiter?” 

Roger shrugged, “I don’t think I deserve someone like you. I don’t deserve you waiting for me, taking me out, indulging my tantrums and moods. I’m not worth all of this, Brian.” 

Brian May never cursed openly in public, so when he felt the guitarist grab his hand and say  _ “that’s bullshit”,  _ he knew he was in for a rant. Roger braced himself for an angry explanation of what the guitarist thought about what Roger had just said. Maybe with a few  _ ‘Deaky warned me about this’ _ thrown in there, but what he received was much better than he had expected. 

“I love you, Roger Taylor,” he started, and Roger snapped his head up so fast he nearly got whiplash, “I love you for everything you are, and everything you aren’t. I love the way you play drums, the way you care for people, the way you smile, the way you  _ giggle  _ at the most inappropriate times. I just so happen to find you the most interesting person on the face of earth. And if that’s not worth waiting for, I don’t know what is.” 

“Brian, I—”

“No, let me finish,” Brian interrupted him, “I know this might seem silly, or straight up delusional, coming from someone you only just met seven months ago, when you  _ pretended  _ to be my boyfriend, but I think I think I’m falling love with you. No, I know I am. So stupidly ass-backwards in love that I am willing to wait for you. And if I have to wait fifty years for my first proper kiss, or my first proper shag, then so be it. 

I waited three years for someone that wasn’t worth it, I can wait a hell of a lot longer for someone who is worth everything.” 

That was the first time in Roger’s life that he was left truly speechless. Sitting in the middle of the night, eating the best french fries he had ever had, looking at Brian May as the other boy stared at him like he was the most precious being in the universe. He felt as if he had forgotten how to speak, forgotten how to move, how to breathe, how to  _ think.  _

His brain was short circuiting as he tried to find an answer to what Brian had just said, and then when his brain seemed to fail completely he opened his mouth and let the words that first came to mind spill, “I...I love you, too.” 

“Good,” Brian leaned back and popped a fry into his mouth, “that’s all I could hope for.” He grinned. 

“But I’m not ready yet.” Roger cautioned. 

“And that’s okay.” 

Roger blinked once, “Are you kidding me?” 

Brian raised an eyebrow, “Does it look like I’m kidding?” 

“No.” 

Brian took another sip of the milkshake, “That’s because I’m not. I was serious about waiting for you to come around. I’ll wait for as long as you need me to wait, as long as you love me too.” 

Roger mulled over the idea of Brian’s love; his unorthodox, patient, unselfish way of loving. He’d wait for Roger until he was ready. That was...wow...he felt like he was floating, like the ground and all of his troubles were thousands of miles away as Brian smiled encouragingly back at him. He felt his heart flutter with something that felt suspiciously like  _ hope _ . 

“You really don’t mind?” He asked again

Brian shrugged, “I’ve survived twenty-one years being single. I think I can manage a few more as long as I get my daily dose of cuddling.” 

He could tell Brian was joking about the last part by the glint in his eyes, but Roger smiled nonetheless, and nodded, “ I may, on occasion, need to hop in with you and take you up on that.”

“Good.” Brian grinned. 

They ate the rest of their meal with an easy banter between them, chatting about everything and anything. Roger felt his shoulders relax, and his mind completely invest itself in the conversation. Brian animatedly talked about stars, and guitar chords, then about songs about stars, and Roger couldn’t help but feel that even with all the drama that had resulted, he had made the right choice by swiping right. 

In the end, when the restaurant was closing and it was late enough for them to deem it safe to go back home, Roger was exhausted. They walked hand in hand, talking and laughing. And then when they got to their building Roger pulled Brian aside. 

All it took was for him to look into Brian’s hazel eyes to make a choice. He stood on the tip of his toes and kissed the corner of Brian’s mouth. It was short and chaste, but Brian looked as if he had won the lottery. 

“What was that for?” 

“Reassurance.” 

“Of what?”

“Of what’s to come, dummie. Now open the door, I’m freezing!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a slut for kudos, comments, and feedback, so please tell me what you thought about this chapter! 
> 
> Also... 
> 
> Swing by [my tumblr (@iamnotbrianmay)](https://iamnotbrianmay.tumblr.com/) and say hi or swing by my [ other maylor fanfic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17697668) and give it a read!
> 
> Or...
> 
> Go give my amazing beta some love [through tumblr](https://riveter-rose.tumblr.com/)! I love you, Rose! Thanks for another amazing chapter!


	16. with me nothing is easy, only you can tell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some fluff, some angst, and the band's first lucky strike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so Trouble part 2 starts. Now this part of the story is mainly focused on Brian and his feelings about the whole thing after Seven Months have gone by since the incident, eight since he met Roger. That's a lot of freaking time. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

_**Seven Months After the Incident;** _

**_In the nightmare Roger is running from something,_ ** _ he can’t exactly say what he is running from, or why that thing is chasing him, but he knows it’s coming. Long talons ready to cut him into confetti and darkness ready to swallow him whole. He is running as fast as he can and yet he doesn’t really know if he is getting anywhere.  _

_ One second he is alone, the next Brian is running beside him.  _

_ The older man looks like hell. His hair messed up, blood running down his chin from a split lip, and thinner than he remembers him being. He wants to stop and make sure Brian is okay, but he knows the thing is right behind them, and those would be precious seconds he can’t waste.  _

_ One second he is running, the next he’s fallen on his face.  _

_ Brian is beside him in a second, trying to help him get up but the impact left him dizzy enough for it to be a nightmare trying to stand up. He tries to tell Brian to keep going, to keep running and leave him behind, but before he can the thing grabs Brian by the ankle and pulls him back.  _

_ “Roger!” He cries out.  _

_ Roger tries to stand, but his legs give out on him. He tries to crawl towards the monster which now has Brian in his claws but he is way too slow.  _

_ “Roger!”  _

_ Once again he tries to call for the older man, but his voice fails him. All he lets out is a pathetic whimper, which he is sure can’t be heard by the guitarist.  _

“Roger, wake up!” Brian gently shaking his shoulder. 

Roger woke up with a start, the feeling of panic still washing over him. He frantically looked around, once the world has stopped spinning and that his voice is working again, he lets out desperate yell, “Brian!” 

The light on his nightstand is switched on, even in the soft yellow the shadows look sinister. It takes him a second to realise that he is safe in his room, not in the dark corridor he had been in seconds before. He has nothing to run from, nothing to fear. He turns around, and blinks to adjust to the light. Roger tries to calm his rapidly beating heart by looking at Brian’s sleeping form, but instead is met with worried hazel eyes and a head full of curls. 

He only notices he is trembling when Brian places both his hands on his shoulders reassuringly, trying to get him to calm down. “Rog, you with me?” He asks softly. Roger feels emotionally drained, as if he had actually been running for his life. He nods and slumps forward onto Brian’s chest. The older boy calmly runs his fingers through his hair, and presses a soft kiss to the crown of his head. 

“You had me worried,” the guitarist whispers, “ I couldn’t wake you up.” 

“Sorry.” Roger murmured into his shoulder.  

“Don’t be,” Brian moves his fingers from his hair to his neck, tracing small circles with his thumbs, “do you want to talk about it?” 

Heat flares up in Roger’s cheeks at the thought, telling Brian about his childish nightmare was the last thing he wanted to do. It was embarrassing enough to think about the fact that he had woken up crying and screaming— he didn’t need to tell Brian that his nightmare was about a  _ monster,  _ of all things. He shook his head. 

“Okay,” a second of silence, “how about you sleep with me tonight?” 

Now  _ that  _ was something that Roger was most definitely interested in. Ever they had confessed their feelings for each other, Roger had wondered when he was going to be able to take Brian up on the offer of sleeping together again. 

Sending his hesitation, Brian added a small, “Please?” 

Roger nodded, lifting his head so Brian could get up. Once the older man stood, he offered Roger a hand. He took it, feeling himself being pulled forward as they both stumbled towards Brian’s bed; finally toppling down onto it. Roger landed haphazardly on top of Brian, and started laughing once he saw the look on his face. “Oh shut it, I’m not that heavy!”

Brian grinned “I didn’t say  _ anything!”  _ before mock-groaning. 

They arranged themselves in the bed once Roger stopped laughing, making a sort of fortress with pillows and blankets from both beds, and settling comfortably in the middle of the bed, legs tangled together and facing each other in the dark. 

A crack of thunder interrupted the calm that had settled over them, and Roger inched forward, trying to press closer to Brian. 

“Tell me something,” Roger whispered, placing one hand under his head and the other in the space between their faces. 

Something flickered across Brian’s face, then he reached up to catch Roger’s hand in his, tangling their fingers and tracing patterns on the back of his hand with his thumb, “What do you what me to talk to you about?” 

Roger noticed how Brian’s voice started to sound hoarse when he tried to speak quietly, almost raspy. He wanted to hear it forever, so he blurted out the thing most likely to get Brian speaking for hours—“Space. Tell me about space.” 

Brian thought for a moment. 

“Did you know the skin on your feet falls off when you’re in space?”

“That’s disgusting!” Roger squeaked, “Why would you tell me  _ that  _ of all things?” 

There is a long silence before they both start giggling like mad men, trying their best to stifle their laughter and failing miserably. It is then that Roger realises he is madly in love with Brian. Ass over tits, in fact. Miserably, and irrevocably in love. 

“Have you always been this endearing?” 

He can’t see Brian’s face very well in the dark, but he was sure that the older man was blushing, “I like to think so.” 

“Good,” Roger whispered as he snuggled even closer to the older man, without letting go of his hand, “Keep telling me about space.” 

Roger closed his eyes as Brian started talking about Quasars, letting his voice, and the feeling of coziness that came with sleeping in the same bed as Brian, lull him to sleep. 

* * *

 

“You’re going way too slow!” 

“I’m playing how I always play!” 

“No you’re not!” There was a loud clang as Roger let his drumsticks fall on top of the tom-tom, “I’m keeping time and you’re going way too slow, throwing us all off rhythm.” 

“How do you know it’s not you speeding up?” 

“Because I’m a human metronome! That’s literally my job!” 

“ _ Because I’m a human metronome _ ,” Brian imitated Roger’s whiny tone, “Just slow it down a bit and get off my ass.” 

“Fuck you,” Roger said, pointing a finger at the guitarist, “And fuck you guys for not backing me up!” 

Freddie glared back Roger, “Well Fuck you too, Roger.” 

The drummer left the room in a huff, grabbing a pack of cigarettes on his way out, and slamming the door as hard as he could when he left. Brian huffed in annoyance and started tuning his guitar, trying to get his nerves to settle down. 

“He grabbed a pack of cigarettes,” John said to no one in particular. 

“Yeah well,” Brian winced as the string he was tuning protested, “Let him choke on the smoke.” 

“You don’t mean that.” 

“I sure do.” 

He saw Freddie roll his eyes in annoyance, throw his hands up on the air and then leave the room. He was left alone with John, as the younger boy watched him with a calculating gaze.  After a few minutes of being examined he turned to John and glared at the bassist, “What, John?” 

“Is everything alright between you and Roger?” 

At the blunt question Brian straightened,but kept flicking his gaze back to his guitar, “Of course, why wouldn’t it be?” 

“Brian I’m not blind,” John retorted, “you basically just left Roger to his own devices with a pack of cigarettes after sniping at each other for fifteen minutes about something that you were  _ both  _ wrong about.” Brian looked up at him. 

“What’s going on with you two?” 

There was a long silence in which Brian thought about everything that had happened in the last few days between himself and Roger. The words they exchanged in the diner, the peck at the end of the night... the entire week they had spent sleeping in each other’s bed after the incident with Roger’s nightmare. The sleeping part was nice but the subsequent bad—no,  _ horrible _ — feelings that arose every time he woke up with Roger curled around him were starting to get to him. He’d wake up, Roger would be nuzzling lovingly into his chest...it was like a lovely dream; a dream that ended abruptly when he remembered that it was still  _ too soon _ for them to start dating. 

Brian knew he had told Roger he would wait for him, but as the weeks passed it was getting harder and harder not to ask Roger if that day would ever come. If maybe he would go out with him on a date or hell, even just spend the afternoon kissing and cuddling. But he had damned himself to the purgatory that was being Roger’s roommate and not-yet-boyfriend while he knew that the younger man was just as eager to be with him as he was. Or well, so he thought. He had been riddled with doubt and confusion, his body saying one thing and his mind another. 

Brian didn’t say any of this to John, though. The bassist watched the conflicted look on Brian’s face, saw his eyes flit towards the sound of Freddie’s and Roger’s laughter outside.

“You should just talk to him, you know.” 

“And say what?” Brian slumped into a nearby chair, “Something along the lines of ‘ _ Hey Roger, I know I said I would wait for you, but I’d really like to get into your pants’  _ ? Yeah, sounds like a great plan, Deaky.” 

“Well, I mean, it’s been what? Seven months now, Bri? Seven months in which he’s been making all the rules and you’ve agreed with them. You haven’t established any of  _ your  _ boundaries.” 

Brian gnawed at his bottom lip, “See that’s the thing, I don’t think I  _ have _ any.” 

John raised his eyebrows, “That’s even worse than I thought then, you should be able to decide some things too. It shouldn’t just be Roger making demands and you accepting them. I don’t think that’s healthy  _ at all. _ ” 

“You think?” Brian asked. 

“I know,” John answered, “You agreeing with everything has to be the most out of character thing I have ever heard. Sometimes you’ll have to put your foot down. If Roger’s going to whine about your tempo he’ll have to put up with your stubbornness.” 

Brian smirked, opening his mouth to respond— wanting to ask for more advice— but then Roger and Freddie burst into the room jumping and whooping with excitement. Brian barely had time to put down the Red Special before he had a lapful of squealing blonde drummer. 

“They want to meet us!” 

Brian frowned, “Who?” 

“They heard  _ Seven Seas of Rhye _ and they said they had loved it!” 

“Roger  _ what  _ are you talking about?” 

The door opened, and Miami strolled in looking as excited as he had ever seen the other man look. It was bizarre seeing childlike glee dancing in their manager’s eyes. He looks like a kid in a candy store. 

“Did you tell them yet?” 

“We were getting to it!” 

“No they really weren’t,” John deadpanned, “they’re  _ way _ too excited to speak properly.” 

“We know  _ someone  _ heard our music, we just don’t know who.” Brian added. 

Miami’s smile was radiant, like he had won the lottery, “ _ The Rolling Stones  _ heard your song, and they want to write an article about you.” 

There was a second of silence in the time it took for the information to sink in, Brian was left speechless, but John started to whoop. Roger joined in screaming, and Freddie was left running around screaming about how they had done it. They had finally gotten their big break. 

Once the two boyfriends started celebrating with each other Roger turned towards Brian, who was still looking at his bandmates in shock. He ran up to the guitarist, throwing himself into his arms and pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

“We did it!” Roger whispered, “Brian we  _ really _ did it.” 

The guitarist wrapped his arms around the drummer, swallowing his feelings down his throat for the moment-dreading the conversation he knew they’d eventually have. “We did, Rog. I knew we would.” 

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a slut for kudos, comments, and feedback, so please tell me what you thought about this chapter! 
> 
> Also... 
> 
> Swing by [my tumblr (@iamnotbrianmay)](https://iamnotbrianmay.tumblr.com/) and say hi or swing by my [ other maylor fanfic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17697668) and give it a read!
> 
> Or...
> 
> Go give my amazing beta some love [through tumblr](https://riveter-rose.tumblr.com/)! I love you, Rose! Thanks for another amazing chapter!


	17. you know me so well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A date, a title, and the calm before the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Lovies! 
> 
> I tried posting this chapter last night but for some reason it just wouldn't upload. 
> 
> Sorry for taking so long, I'm recovering from a surgery and it took a toll on me, but now it's here and I want you all to enjoy it! 
> 
> Love, Maria.

**_When Roger asked Brian to meet him in the library that evening,_ ** he hadn’t expected the other man to think it would be some kind of hurtful prank. Even going so far as to warn Roger against trying to scare him, lest he face “the consequences”.

All it did was make Roger wonder what had happened the last time someone met him at the library 

**_May:_ ** _ Roger Taylor I won’t hesitate to kill you.  _

**_Taylor:_ ** _ you forgot the “—Bri”.  _

**_May:_ ** _ Oh, fuck you. _

Roger laughed out loud at Brian’s reaction, which immediately earned him a glare from the old lady at the front desk. The blind hag lifted herself of her perch, ready to scold him, only to head to the table a few meters to the right of Roger’s. This time the drummer did hold in the laughter and watched in delight as the couple sitting in complete silence got scolded. 

His phone buzzed and he looked down, reading Brian’s next message; 

 

**_May:_ ** _ Can I at least know  _ why _ I’m going to the library on a Saturday night?  _

 

Roger sent him back a quick text in which he mocked Brian for being a fake nerd, but decided against teasing him further. After all, he didn’t want to be left alone in a library on a Saturday night. 

He kept reading in silence, waiting for the guitarist to walk through the doors. Curly hair bouncing with his light steps and smile lighting up the room. Roger was so lost in thought that when the other man actually walked into the library the drummer missed him. It was only when Brian pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head that Roger jumped slightly, snapping out of his trance. 

“Hey, you.” 

Roger brought his hands to cover his chest, “That was so cute, I might melt.” 

Brian rolled his eyes, and sat beside Roger, “Okay, now can I know  _ why  _ you dragged me here?” 

“Oh, you’re going to love it, you giant nerd.” Roger said as he stood up and closed his book, “You’re going to love  _ me. _ ” 

Brian rolled his eyes again and grabbed the hand that Roger had extended for him. The blond laced their fingers together, and walked towards the back of the library, where Brian’s surprise was waiting for them. 

“I had to pull a few strings to get the room for ourselves,” Roger explained, “I also had to book it at the least convenient hour possible. So for that I’m sorry.”

“Okay.” 

“But I hope the end result will be worth the weird hours.” 

Oh boy was it ever. 

Roger made Brian close his eyes and lay on the floor, a pillow below his head, and a blanket to shield him from the cold of the concrete. He took a few minutes setting up the equipment, and making sure that the image on the ceiling was perfect. 

Once everything was ready he turned towards Brian with a wide smile, “Now, I asked around and one of my friends, as it turns out, is really into astronomy. He was always complaining about how you can’t really look at the stars while living in a big city like London. So he and his friends from school developed this software.” 

From the point where he was standing he could see as Brian opened his eyes and looked up. The projector was pointed to the dome-like ceiling, and the image spread out above them was a replica of the milky way; only more scientific in ways that Roger couldn’t begin to understand. Brian, on the other hand, looked like he had never seen anything so beautiful. 

“No way,” Brian whispered, “I thought these projectors were worth a fortune.” 

“They probably are,” Roger replied, “David threatened to kill me if I broke the thing.” 

Roger, pleased with Brian’s reaction, turned back to fiddle with the computer, asking questions about whether Brian wanted to see other modalities or if he wanted to see some shooting stars. The biologist even went as far as asking if there were certain coordinates that the other man wanted to pinpoint. 

He was always met by silence. Which only led to Roger rambling even more about the program or the stars they were looking at. 

Until Brian finally spoke, “Rog, just come here.” 

The blond turned to look at Brian, the older man was sitting down with his back against one of the walls, legs spread open and looking unfairly cute and soft in the oversized sweater he had chosen to wear to their not-date. Roger’s heart thumped painfully hard in his chest. He was all too aware of how far gone he was on this man. Everything Brian May did seemed to do drive him crazy. 

He walked over, and once he was close enough to Brian he let the older man pull him down. They arranged themselves until Roger was nestled comfortably between the astrophysicist’s legs. It was an odd contrast, looking at the vastness of the universe while sitting in a small, crappy room in a London library basement. 

“You drive me crazy, you know that right?” Brian said suddenly. 

Roger tried to turn around to face Brian but the older man gripped his shoulders, keeping him in place. 

He continued, “maybe it’s because you’re the first person I’ve ever really,  _ really _ , liked. Maybe it’s just that I’m a twenty year old idiot in love, but you drive me so crazy and we aren’t even really dating yet.

You spoil me with things like this, frequent cuddles, and are by far the most affectionate person ever... yet for some reason I still felt like I needed more.” 

Roger’s smile slid off his face and his heart dropped. The cold sting of rejection seemed to seep into every single one of his bones. Somewhere at the back of his mind he had always knew that Brian would eventually reach his breaking point. That he would finally realize how many chances he was missing while waiting for Roger. Young, attractive and charming—why was he waiting around for him? Roger was bracing himself for heartbreak when Brian said his next words, “I’m so sorry for ever thinking that, Roger. All you’re asking for is time and you’re giving me so much, still. I could kick myself for ever thinking that I needed more than what you were giving to me already.” 

“So you’re not ending things?” Roger asked hopefully, “you’re not done waiting for me?” 

“ _ No, _ ” Brian answered immediately, “God no, Roger! I’m thanking you for reminding me that you are worth the wait. And asking you to forgive me if I ever made you feel pressured for more than you were ready to give.” 

Roger was relieved, but at the same time a little uneasy. He shrugged a shoulder, “I wouldn’t have been surprised..It was bound to happen eventually.” 

“What was bound to happen?” 

“You realizing I’m not worth the wait.” 

This time Brian was the one to turn Roger around, so he could face. Roger couldn’t help but notice that the reflection of the projector made Brian’s eyes look like they held the galaxy inside them.

“Never say that again.” Brian said firmly.

“Brian—” 

“No I mean it,” the older man insisted, “That was me just being stupid, Rog. But you are worth so much more. You are worth the blue balls, the longing, heck, even the pitying stares from Freddie and John when they catch me looking at you like you’ve ‘hung the moon.’” He did the little air quotes, making Roger chuckle. He leaned in so that his face was pressed against Brian’s chest. 

“Am I really worth keeping your virginity?” 

Brian laughed, Roger feeling the vibrations as he did so, “Uh, how do you know I’m not saving myself for Jesus?” 

Roger merely snorted. 

“Okay fine, you’ve got me there. You’re worth it— when you’re not being a brat.” 

“I am  _ never _ a brat!” 

It was Brian’s turn to snort, “Of course you are! Plopping yourself down in my lap, wrapping yourself around me during the night...speeding up during songs.” 

“Oh, we are not having this argument again,” Roger interrupted him by placing a finger on Brian’s lips. “Not when I’m trying to do something nice for you.” “Thank you.” Brian smiled “thank you for all of this.”

“I know how much you love the stars,” Roger said, “And how happy you’ll be when you finish your PhD and get to see things like these on a daily basis.” 

And that turned out to be the wrong thing to say. Roger could feel the way the tension in the room increased and how Brian shifted underneath him, “You know that if I finish my PhD I won’t have a lot of time for Queen, right?” 

“Doesn’t matter.” Roger whispered hugging his slim frame closer, “We will find a way to make it work.” 

“We won’t have to,” Brian murmured, “I already did.” 

“Oh yeah?” Roger asked, pulling back slightly. “What’s that?” 

There was a second of hesitation before Brian answered, “I dropped out last week... I just have to finish these last few days, and then I’m all Queen.” 

“You did what?” Roger pushed back to look at Brian, wide-eyes. 

“A PhD isn’t more important than what we’re doing ,” Brian argued, “Not when we’re so damn close. Not when the Rolling  _ freaking _ Stones have asked for an interview with us!” 

“But Brian, your stars—” 

“Will be there if this thing fails, which it won’t,” Brian interrupted him, “And they will be there every single night until the day I’m old, grey, and unable to play guitar.”

Roger looked at Brian, who despite the resolution in his voice, had damp, sad eyes as he looked at the stars above them.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” Roger prodded. 

“More than sure.” Brian said, even if his voice broke a little on the sentence. 

“You can cry if you need to,” Roger said as he tucked his head underneath Brian’s chin, “I’ll be here for you.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” Roger whispered, “If you can wait for me, why shouldn’t I comfort you?” Roger traced the skin on the back of Brian’s hand, never looking up to confirm his suspicion that the older man was crying about the dream he had to leave behind. The two fell asleep like that, keeping each other warm.  

Early the next morning the old lady came into the room to kick them out, and Brian couldn’t help but feel like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Even if they hurt a little from sleeping upright. He walked out hand in hand with Roger, rubbing his stiff neck and beaming in happiness. It was only after a few blocks of walking that Roger turned toward him, hair mussed and sleepy smile stretching across his face. 

“You know Bri, if you really want you can call me your boyfriend. Make sure everyone knows you are taken.” He winked

Brian raised his eyebrows, but smiled. “Even if we have never really kissed?” 

“Who’s to say what constitutes a boyfriend? We don’t have to asked anyone’s permission, do we?” Roger countered. 

Brian felt warmth curse through his veins, “No, I suppose we don’t. How smart my  _ boyfriend  _ is _. _ ” 

Roger laughed loudly and gripped Brian’s hand tighter; the noise startling a flock of birds and filling the street with the sound of happiness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im a slut for Kudos, comments, and feedback.


	18. without you everything's a bore.

**The phone rang right after they had finished lunch**. Roger had been rubbing his stomach, trying to get the feeling of fullness to dissipate, when he had heard his ringtone from Brian’s room. He smiled and batted his eyelashes prettily at Brian so that the older boy would get Roger’s cellphone for him. 

“It’s your sister,” Brian said as he handed the device to Roger. 

He picked up, and pressed the cellphone to his ear, still rubbing his tummy, “Hey, Gremlin.” 

“ _ Roger! _ ” He winced at the loudness and turned the volume down, “ _ So nice of you to answer your phone! _ ”

He rolled his eyes, “Oh, come off it. We spoke like yesterday.” 

“ _ Not yesterday,”  _ she reminded him, “ _ Thursday. It’s officially been three days since we last spoke.”  _

“All right, all right,” he took a sip from his coffee, “What’s up, failed abortion?” 

An indignant noise came from Brian, who was looking at Roger like he had just insulted his grandma. Roger rolled his eyes,  _ ugh, only children—always so sensitive.  _

“ _ Mom wants to know if you’d like to come to Truro next weekend _ .” Clare answered, “ _ Our cousins are coming over, and so is Miss Perez and her son. _ ” 

Roger grimaced, “Is mom still trying to set me up with Antonio?” 

“ _ She’s been trying for the past seven years, and I don’t think she’ll stop until she manages to get you two on a date.”  _

Roger looked over at Brian then, who’d had lost interest in the conversation at some point, and had opted for turning to his attention to working on his latest song. One that he still refused to show Roger. 

Brian turned towards Roger once he felt the younger boy’s eyes on him, and gave him a sweet smile. His canines poked adorably at his bottom lip, and the crinkles on the side of his eyes drove Roger up the wall. He had to bite his tongue to stop himself from blushing. God, he was screwed. 

“ _ Earth to Roger,”  _ Clare spoke again, “ _ Are you even listening to me or are you thinking about Antonio’s ass?”  _

Roger rolled his eyes, “Nah, I was just fawning over my boyfriend and his cute smile.” 

Brian blushed and looked away demurely, turning his head back to the song he was writing and letting his hair flop over his face. There was silence in the other end of the line, and finally Clare spoke, “ _ Tim?”  _

He tried not to feel insulted by the insinuation that he would go back to that idiot, “Hell no. His name is Brian. God, Clare I can’t wait until you meet him. He is the sweetest, the prettiest, the funniest—” 

“All right, Roger,” Brian said through the dopey smile that had settled on his face, “quit shamelessly flirting and talk to your sister.” 

“ _ Was that him?”  _

_ “ _ Yeah.” 

_ “Tell him I said good luck.”  _

“With what?” 

_ “Putting up with you.”  _

“Hey, fuck you.” 

Clare laughed and so did Brian. Roger glared the the older boy, and went back to the conversation with his sister, “I’ll have to ask him, but I think he would like to come with me.” 

“ _ I must have missed the part where I said you could invite him.”  _

“I know,” Roger said, “but I’m bringing him anyway.” 

“ _ I’m excited to meet him.”  _

“I’m excited for him to meet you.” 

The conversation went on for a few minutes after that. It went that way for a few minutes Clare teasing Roger and him trying to deflect the taunts. And when she finally finished telling him everything she wanted, he heard her sigh. 

“What’s wrong, Moon?”

There was a second of hesitation, “ _ This Brian chap… just be careful, okay? _ ” 

“He’s really great Clare, you’ll love him.” 

“ _ That’s what you said last time.” _

Roger looked up to Brian then, staring at the cute way in which he bit his tongue when he scribbled, and wrinkled his nose when something didn’t seem quite right. His boyfriend looked up, and mouthed, ‘ _ What rhymes with cheese?’  _

Roger couldn’t hold back his snort, “This time I’m sure.” 

_ “Okay,” _ she whispered, “ _ I’ll be the judge of that.”  _

Roger rolled his eyes, but he always found it comforting when Clare acted like a protective sibling. “Mmm, see you next week?” 

They said their goodbyes, and Roger found that he was suddenly very excited for next week to come. Once he hung up he found Brian was still looking at him, and Roger smiled, “What?”

“I was serious you know!” Brian said, “What rhymes with cheese?” 

Roger let out a guffaw, throwing his head back and bringing his hands to his chest, “I don’t know what rhymes with cheese, Bri! You’re writing a song about cheese?!”

He stood up, rounding the table and dropping a soft kiss on Brian’s forehead before continuing to the kitchen, “Bri?” 

“Yes, love?” 

Roger got on the tips of his toes and grabbed his favourite mug from the shelf, “Would you like to come?” 

“Come where?” 

“Truro,” Roger added three spoons of sugar into the water, thinking about how they had gotten in a fight the other week about Roger’s tea making habits because  _ oh my god Roger you can’t add the sugar before you’ve boiled the water! That’s insane! _

“We’ll hang out with my cousins, you’ll get to taste my mum’s famous ratatouille, and it will give us a weekend away from this extremely polluted hell hole.” 

Silence followed and for a second Roger feared he had made a terrible mistake. He put the kettle on the burner and was about to tell Brian it was alright if he didn’t want to when long arms wound themselves around his waist. Roger was pulled back against Brian’s chest, his curls tickling his cheek. He leaned back, enjoying the warmth, and let himself be held. 

“I would love to,” Brian brushed his temple with a soft kiss, “just tell me what to pack, what kind of wine your mum likes, and the names of each and every one of your relatives I’ll be meeting.” 

Roger chuckled, “That’s going to be a long list.” 

“I guess I better start learning them sooner rather than later.” 

Roger sighed, nuzzling into Brian’s neck as the taller man rested his chin on his shoulder. The nerves which had been building since he had asked Brian the question had already completely disappeared, replaced by the feeling of heart-fluttering love, “Thank you.” 

“For what?” Brian’s breath felt warm against his scalp. 

“For coming with me, for being so wonderful.” Roger placed a soft kiss on Brian’s neck, “You know you’re the first guy I’m bringing home to meet my family.” 

“ _ Really _ ?” 

“Yeah.” Roger hadn’t exactly dated a lot of guys his family would approve of. 

He felt Brian gulp, “Oh good, no pressure then.” 

Roger didn’t feel nervous at all, “Really Brian, there’s no pressure. I know they’ll love you.” 

Brian privately thought that was a load of crap— _ how could being the first guy someone brought home not carry high expectations?  _ But kept it to himself. The fact that Roger had so much faith in him and trusted him enough to introduce to his family had caused a warm feeling to blossom in his chest. He hoped Roger didn’t see the blush that was also creeping up his neck. 

“How d’you know?” Brian pressed. 

“Fishing for compliments are we?” Roger teased, shifting slightly to look back at him. “Hmm, well you’re tall, for one—Mum’s always fancied a tall man for me. You’re crazy smart—can probably teach my smart-ass sister a thing or two. No I think it’s your ability to rhyme that’ll really blow them away...Cheese, Please, Tease…” Brian could feel Rogers face splitting into a grin. It was only justified really, when Brian dug his long fingers into Rogers sides, causing him to screech and writhe against him. “Stop it you ass! You know I’m ticklish!” 

“Ticklish?” Brian murmured “you don’t say?” Then proceeded to tickle him mercilessly. After a tussle that resulted in both of them in tears of laughter on the kitchen floor, the whistling of the kettle got them up on their feet. Roger made a pot of tea and turned to find Brian had disappeared. 

“Bri?” Roger asked, walking a couple steps to hear rustling from Brian’s room. He reappeared with his laundry bin and a pad of paper. 

“If I’m meeting your family I’m going to need to wash my semi-decent clothes.” He explained, at the look on Rogers face. Brian put to the pad in front of Rogers seat at the table, “and I was serious about that list by the way!” He then walked over to the couch and started peering underneath “where did my weekend bag get to…?”

Roger could only smile, god his boyfriend was a nerd—and he couldn’t wait for next weekend.

  
  



	19. the sky is seeing a million raindrops fall

**The week came and went faster than Brian expected.** One moment he was taking his usual astronomy classes, the next he was packing his embarrassingly old suitcase into the back of their van and getting ready to go to Truro with Roger. He had managed to learn eighteen of the twenty one names Roger had given him, and had managed to save up enough to buy Winifred Taylor bottle of decent enough wine. 

He got into the van after a few seconds of hesitation, twiddling his thumbs as he waited for Roger to get in. The blond climbed with a flurry of movements, making the van tilt, and smiled at Brian. It was enough to light up his face, making him look three hundred times prettier. Brian couldn’t help it, he leaned over and kissed the tip of Roger’s nose, which made the blond blush. 

“What was that for?” 

Brian shrugged, “You looked cute.” 

Roger blushed deeper, and turned the key on the ignition. Then slapped the wheel, “Damn it, Brian May. Don’t do that to me. I look like an idiot.” 

Brian started laughing at Roger’s faux annoyance, even managing to make Roger blush deeper and whisper a small, ‘ _ What the fuck is happening to me?’  _ to himself after blowing him a kiss. 

“You know I used to be quite the Don Juan.” 

“oh Yeah?” 

Roger nodded, “I could literally get a different girl every single time I walked into a club.” 

Brian let out a loud guffaw, “Okay I’ll humour you _ Romeo _ , what changed?” 

There was a bump in the road that made Brian and Roger wince, but the older man couldn’t hold back the smile on his face when Roger sighed, “I met you.” 

It was a good thing Roger was focused on the road because yeah, Brian could have melted in that exact moment. 

* * *

 

Despite Roger spending the entire trip to Truro telling Brian about his family, the guitarist was still taken by surprise at the… warm reception. The first person to come out and greet the boys was no other than Winnie, Roger’s mother. She was a beautiful woman, with large blue eyes and long, curly, blonde hair tied back with a bandana. 

She had a toddler balanced on her hip, an adorable redhead, who was way too interested in pulling at one of her locks of hair to notice the screech of happiness that the blond woman let out when she saw the van pulling into the driveway. 

 

“Roger darling!” she exclaimed, giving him a tight, one-armed hug. 

“Hullo mum” he murmured into her hair, before pulling back and grinning at her. 

She turned her smile on Brian “and you must be Brian! I’ve heard so much about you.” 

He smiled back at her and bent down to be enfolded in the shorter woman’s hug. “Come in boys, you’ll catch your deaths!”

The small house was very warm and cozy and Brian tried to picture Roger growing up in it, scrambling down the stairs or sitting in front of the television. “I’ll just make a fresh pot of tea. Roger why don’t you bring the bags up to your room and then you can come tell me all the news!” 

Roger nodded and pointed his head towards the stairs, “This way Bri, I’ll give you the grand tour.”

Brian followed him up the staircase, narrowly avoiding hitting his head on the low ceiling. Roger heard his grunt and looked back smirking “Sorry, old house is kinda small.” 

Brian smiled back, “It’s lovely Rog.” 

At the top of the stairs they walked a couple steps to a faded pink door. Roger turned the handle and Brian took in his childhood bedroom. Posters and old polaroids covered most of the walls, spare drum parts and notebooks littered a small desk. It was chaotic but organized and very much Roger’s space. 

Brian grinned as he inspected some of the snapshots up close. “Oh my god Rog you were so cute!”

“What are you talking about  _ were _ ?” Roger squeaked indignantly. “Are you saying I’m not cute now!?”

Brian turned and smiled, before wrapping the smaller boy in a hug. “Of course not—now you’re just plain hot.” 

At the compliment, Roger couldn’t help hugging him back. They stayed like that for a minute before Roger pulled back and looked up at him, “Okay nice save, you’re still on thin fucking ice.” He winked at Brian’s furrowed brow. 

And with that, he skipped out of the room and down the stairs “Mum! Tea ready yet?”

Brian shook his head and followed after him, bracing himself for the ‘interrogation’ that surely awaited him downstairs. 

Making sure to duck as he descended the staircase, Brian saw Roger bring a tray loaded with mugs, a saucer of milk and some plates into the living room. Feeling a little awkward, Brian stood by the doorway until Roger indicated where he should sit. He knew his father hated when someone sat in ‘his’ recliner and didn’t want to make any such mistakes in the Taylor household. 

Roger noticed and waved his hand, “Just sit anywhere Bri!” 

Brian shrugged and sat on the nearby loveseat, Roger landing heavily beside him. 

“Napping has commenced!” Winnie announced as she entered the room with a teapot covered with a cozy. 

She placed the teapot on the table with everything else and sat in the armchair across from them. “So how are you boys? How’s the band doing?”

They looked at each other, not sure who would speak first. Brian figured Roger should be the one to give his mum the good news. He nodded and Roger smiled “Better than you can imagine, mum. We are recording an album, we play weekly gigs and we even landed ourselves an interview with the  _ Rolling Stone! _ .” 

Both of them grinned as Winne jumped excitedly in her chair, “Oh that’s wonderful! I’m sure it’ll be fabulous!”

Roger nodded enthusiastically, then elbowed Brian “Bri’s fantastic on guitar...and he writes some of the songs too. I’m sure he can give you a little concert if you still have grandad’s guitar somewhere.” 

Brian felt his face heat at the compliment. “And I’m sure I don’t need to tell you Mrs. Taylor that your son is a very talented drummer.”

“Oh please, call me Winnie. When I hear  _ Mrs. Taylor _ I think of my mother in law.” Brian, touched by the easy familiarity, nodded. 

“So Brian, obviously we’ve heard a lot about you from Roggie over here—but I don’t think he told me how exactly you met? It was one of those online app thingies, yeah?”

And just like that the comfortable feeling disappeared. 

“Uh…” Brian started, before the front door banged open and interrupted him. 

“Where’s my favourite idiot brother!?” Came a woman’s voice from the front hall. 

“Clare!” Roger said happily, getting up and running into his sister for a hug. Brian sat and watched as the two embraced, noting that Clare also had the Taylor blonde hair and blue eyes. After a moment Roger pulled back and turned towards him, “Clare _this_ is Brian.”

His voice was both nervous and proud. Clare turned her inquisitive eyes on him and Brian swore he could feel them inspecting him. He stood up to come meet her and her eyebrows rose as she now had to look  _ up  _ at him. 

“Well” she said, putting her hands on her hips “he sure wasn’t lying when he said you were tall.” 

Brian shrugged his shoulders and was about to hold out his hand when the smaller woman practically launched herself at him. Brian stumbled but after a moment returned the hug. Roger grinned and Brian smiled over Clare’s shoulder at him—so far so good! Then Clare turned her head slightly and whispered in his ear, “If you hurt my brother I’ll make you wish you were never born.” 

Brian felt the smile freeze on his face as he let her down. She was just kidding...he hoped. Clare gave her mom a peck on the cheek then turned back to them. 

“Rog! Come help me bring my stuff in and let mom interrogate Brian over here” she said jokingly. 

Roger squeezed Brian’s hand, “I’ll be right back.” 

“Try not to scream, okay? Anthony’s sleeping.” 

Then he followed Clare out of the room. Brian, for his part, was feeling a bit like the rug had been pulled from under him. He looked over to find Winnie smiling sympathetically at him. She came over and pulled him to sit back on the loveseat, taking Rogers place beside her. 

“Don’t worry dear, Clare’s just a little overprotective. Has been as long as I can remember.” Brian nodded in response, still unsure of what to say. 

Winnie poured them both a cup of tea. “Milk and sugar?” She asked. 

“Just milk please” he said faintly. 

Winnie smiled again and handed him his mug. He took a sip of the hot tea and enjoyed the faint burn as he swallowed. 

“I figure Clare will be doing a little interrogating of her own, we’ll have some time to ourselves. Now do you want to tell me how you two met?”

_ Not really,  _ Brian thought,  _ but when do I ever get what I want?  _

* * *

 

Roger takes a peek into his nephew’s room, cooing softly at the sight of the redhead sleeping peacefully, before heading over to help Clare with her things. 

“He is so pretty, Moon.” 

“He is, isn’t he?” She agrees as she takes out a shirt and folds it into the nearly empty drawer, the only thing in there seem to be Anthony’s clothes, which Roger figures his mum put in when they got here. “I fall a bit more in love with him every day.” 

Roger knew better than to ask why his sister’s husband wasn’t coming, he might be the youngest, and might have made some mistakes, but he sure as hell hadn’t gone and married an utter asshole. Clare turned to him then, and her twenty three years of age seemed like a whole lot more when she looked at him. 

“I can hear you thinking, you know?” 

Roger let out a huff of laughter, “Can you?” 

“Yeah,” she gathered her hair and started making a bun, “I can hear the ‘ _ Aiden is an asshole’  _ all the way from here.” 

Roger’s heart skipped a beat at the declaration. He’d never heard his sister talk about her husband like that. Clare gave him a wry smile, eyes crinkling at the corner, “I know what you all think of him.” 

There is a beat of silence. 

“I might be starting to think that myself.” 

Clare had married young to a then-charming Aiden. A handsome redhead who all of the family had loved the first two years of their marriage. Then it had all gone to shit, leaving Clare pregnant at twenty-one with a shit husband and an even shittier brother who brought her more harm than good. 

Yeah, their family was a bit shit at the relationship department. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Me too,” she shrugged, “but there’s nothing I can do about it now except save you from making the same mistake. Make sure this guy is the right person for you, someone who’s not another Tim. Not another Aiden. Not another Michael.” 

_ Michael Taylor _ is not a can of worms he wants to open tonight, so he settles for telling Clare everything while she unpacks. It feels therapeutic, to say the least, and she listen intently to everything he has to say. She stays quiet until he finishes speaking, then sits down beside him and combs through his long locks of hair. 

“He’s waited eight months for you?” 

“I know,” he answers, “I didn’t think anyone would ever do that for me.” 

“Aren’t you ever going to kiss him?” 

He gives her a small nod, “Someday. When I don’t feel dirty. When I don’t feel like throwing up at the concept. When I don’t feel like I would be damaging the most precious thing I have ever had in my life.” 

“You know that last bit is bullshit, right?” 

Roger frowns, “Is it?” 

“I mean, you have every right to feel that way,” Clare corrects herself, “What I’m trying to say is that you wouldn’t be damaging Brian. You are not dirty, or broken, or cursed. You shouldn’t stop yourself from enjoying things just because of what you went through.” 

He stays quiet for a while, letting Clare run her fingers through his hair and enjoying the quietness of the afternoon, the familiarity of his childhood home. Then he shrugs, “Maybe you’re right.” 

“I’m always right.” She whispers, then presses a kiss to his forehead, “You don’t have to rush, take as much time as you need. But keep in mind that you aren’t damaged, you are not somehow  _ less  _ because of the things that have happened to you.” 

They stayed like that for a while, silent and pondering about the things that have happened and that could happen. They are only pulled away from their thoughts when their mum calls for them, yelling about their cousins who have just arrived. 

Clare gives her younger brother a kiss on the cheek as they finally stand up, and Roger realises that she never even finished unpacking. 


	20. the hours seem to crawl and every day that passes is just the same

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay before any of you say anything... I'm sorry for taking so long! 
> 
> This story has just been my baby for so long and I was so scared to mess it up in the last few chapter so I'm sorry sorry sorry! Also I have such a big audience with so many people that are enjoying this story that I don't want to disappoint ANY of you! 
> 
> So sorry for being a chicken and not posting this earlier <3 
> 
> Also! I'm sorry if I haven't been answering your comments but the response to this thing has been phenomenal and right now I have about 441 notifs on my inbox so yeah that might take a while to come back to you! However, know that I love and appreciate every single one of you and your comments, some of them have even made me cry!

**By the time night falls, the house is full of people.** Brian realises that half of Roger’s family looks a lot like the blonde, which means that he is now the only brunette in a house of seemingly perfect blue-eyed, blonde, angels. The only one other person who is not blonde is little Anthony, who is currently gurgling in Brian’s lap while munching a cookie his mother had given him. 

He wished he could give the kid much more attention than what he was getting at the moment. However, Roger’s family was very interested in the guitarist at the moment, leaving him unable to play with the toddler.  

“So you placed an ad? In Tinder?” Oliver, Roger’s twenty-something-year-old cousin asked, and Brian scrunched his nose up. 

“It was hardly an ad,” Roger interrupted, “that would imply that Brian offered to pay me anything.” 

The whole family laughed, and the blush Brian was sporting spread from his face to his neck, “Not something I’m proud about now that time has passed.” 

Winniefred wiped the corners of her eyes and smiled at Brian, “Don’t be ashamed, darling. It has to be the cutest story I’ve ever heard.” 

Most of the family members agreed, and as Roger sat down beside him, the conversation focus changed from Brian to the stories of the rest of the family members. His boyfriend snuggled up to Brian’s side, “I think they like you a lot.” 

Brian smiled, “Good, that’s good. I was scared shitless that they would think I was annoying or something similar.” 

“I don’t think anyone could find you annoying.” 

“You say that now,” Brian mumbled, placing a kiss of Roger’s hairline, “wait until we get back to the studio.” 

The blonde laughed and agreed with Brian almost immediately. The guitarist let the conversation of the rest of the family wash over their silence. He admired the way that they had made Brian feel more than included in the few hours that they had spent together. From the moment that Roger’s cousin Charlie and his wife Rose had arrived. To the moment that Roger’s grandparents had smiled at Brian and enveloped him in a warm hug. 

He hadn’t told Roger yet, but he had been scared that his family wouldn’t welcome him in, not because of his personality, but because he was a man. He knew that his own family wouldn’t be as accepting as Roger’s. That his grandparents would refuse to meet the blonde and that his parents would be rather adamant that this was only a fling. That Roger should enjoy Brian while he found a suitable wife and fell in love, really in love. 

“What are you thinking about, Brimi?” 

Brian turned towards Roger and found that the blonde was looking at him with wide and inquisitive eyes and his usual pout. He wanted to kiss the blonde senseless, but held himself back for the time being, “Thank you for bringing me to meet your family.” 

“Of course,” Roger said, “I think it was time, I’m not planning on letting you go for a while.” 

Brian blushed again, “Really?” 

Roger didn’t answer, but instead looked around his family and met his mother’s eyes. 

“I’m going to take Brian to my spot.” Several wolf whistles rang around the room, and Roger rolled his eyes, “Oh, get your mind out of the gutter. I want to show him the stars.” 

It was only after several lewd comments and a few minutes of laughter that he finally managed to follow the blonde out of the house. The English countryside was breathtaking at night. 

The air smelled of sweet Night-Blooming Jasmine, the breeze was soft, ruffling both of their hairs gently, and the chill that set all across the countryside seeped into their bones. Fireflies buzzed all around them, making the ground seem like an extension of the night sky. 

The Taylor property seemed to extend for miles. Hills of green grass and tall trees which seemed to blend into the darkness of the night littered the place, making it look like something out of a movie rather than real life. 

Roger grabbed his hand so that the taller man wouldn’t get lost in the darkness. The blonde seemed to know the terrain so well that he didn’t need the light of the sun to guide his way, “My cousins and I used to play every night out in the open. I don’t know how none of us ended up with a broken bone.” 

Brian chuckled, “A miracle.” 

“Now I can walk through this place without tripping, but there used to be a time in which my knees were always scrapped.” 

The taller man looked around once again, taking in the view, “It’s quite beautiful.” 

“You haven’t seen anything,” Roger said, “just wait until we get to the seaside.” 

As Roger promised, the seaside was breathtaking, to say the least. The coast extended as far as the eye could see, bringing in the salty air and the soft rumbling of breaking waves. The sand was thick, sticking to the side of Brian’s shoes and even managing to get inside his socks. 

Roger dragged him to a place on the beach where they could see everything from the old farmhouse to the farthest point in the coastline and made them sit down. But most definitely, the most beautiful part of the whole ordeal was the stars. 

They were scattered across the night sky, lighting up the place and making the most beautiful sight Brian had ever seen. He had never seen as many stars as he saw now, and the mere thought of how many more he could see if he were farther away from the city left him breathless. 

He could see everything from Orion to Aquila, even bits of the Milky Way if he strained his eyes hard enough. He wanted to thank the younger man, but he couldn’t find the voice to do so. It was… well, Brian didn’t have the words to describe how he felt as he watched the night sky.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Roger’s voice sounded quiet in the vastness of the night. 

“I haven’t seen anything like it,” Brian whispered back, “Ever. It’s the most beautiful thing in the world.” 

The blonde chuckled, “I knew you’d appreciate it. Not many like the place as much as I do.” 

Brian frowned, looking down at the younger man and trying to make out his features in the dark, “Who wouldn’t like this?” 

“Oh, you’d be surprised.” 

Silence washed over them, the wordless spaces being filled by the soft sound of the breaking waves and the faint whistling of the air. At some point his best friend curled around him, tucking his head into the crook of the guitarist’s neck and nuzzling into his soft hair. 

“You know, I wasn’t kidding.” 

Brian turned to look at the mass of blonde hair, “About what.” 

Roger turned towards him, and in their proximity, Brian could make out his features entirely, “About wanting to keep you for a long, long, time.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

There was a short silence in which Brian tried to map the entirety of Roger’s face in the dim light of the stars. His boyfriend looked so incredibly pretty that for a second, he missed what Roger was saying, however when his brain finally caught up, his breath was stolen from his lungs. 

“I’m also not kidding when I say that I’m more than ready to start everything I have been stalling.” 

Brian blinked twice, “You mean—?” 

“Yes,” Roger said, “I mean Kissing, snogging, groping, even— well, everything we haven’t been doing for the past eight months.” 

Brian leaned back out of Roger’s, admittedly crappy, eyesight, “Okay, not that I’m not extremely excited for this new development but, you have to remember that this will be my first kiss ever. 

“Well, unless you count that one time after our date at the restaurant, which was not really a kiss since it lasted about one second, and you didn’t even fully kiss my mouth but just the corner of it. So I’m sorry if the kiss is sloppy, or too slow or—” 

Roger placed a finger against the guitarist’s lips, making him stop his adorable rambling, “Can I kiss you now?” 

Brian's eyes widened, then he slowly nodded, too stunned to say anything. The blonde slowly lowered his finger and looked into Brian’s eyes. Needless to say, they were both terrified. 

Roger took a deep breath, willing his beating heart to stop beating so wildly while Brian tried to swallow down his rising panic. The blonde leaned forward, and the guitarist closed his eyes, waiting for what was about to come, but Roger hesitated a few centimetres away from the other man’s face. 

The stars shone down from the bright night sky, the waves crashed into the seashore making a soft, rumbling, back noise, the wind whistled softly as it passed between the countless blades of grass and tree branches, and Roger pressed their lips together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that! Next chapter will be picking up right where we left off! 
> 
> Big thanks to my lovely beta Rose, I love you a lot darling! 
> 
> Comments, Kudos, and Feedback is always appreciated.


	21. just like yesterday , i can't find anyway to forget you because

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five stages of Brian and Roger's relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second to last chapter of this story and I think I'm going to cry. Gosh, it's been such a long journey and I can barely believe that we are here 50k words later. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, commenting, and giving us kudos. We both appreciate it so much. 
> 
> I love every single one of you without a shadow of a doubt, and every comment makes me smile like an idiot. So, thank you all! And I hope you enjoy.

> _i. romance_

The thing about never having had a boyfriend before, Brian realises as he fiddles with the flower arrangement in the middle of the table for the fifth time in the last hour, is that he doesn’t know what he is doing ninety per cent of the time. There seem to be thousands of unspoken rules about dating; thousands of expectations, of little things he should be doing, and Brian has no idea what these are. It seems that every time he does something right, five other things go wrong.

That’s precisely why he has set up this date tonight. 

Earlier that week he had inadvertently pissed Roger off and was currently in the process of trying to make up for it. Novice that he was, he had made the error of bringing up a girl who was _ just a friend _ when he and Roger were on a date. In his defence, he thought that the story he told of Chrissie Mullen was just a fun anecdote, self-deprecating even! He laughed as he spoke about all the things he went through to impress her and how in the end, she wound up only wanting John’s number. Roger had given him the cold shoulder that evening and, confused, he had gone to talk to Freddie about it. The older man had just given him an exasperated look and swatted him on the back of the head with a rolled-up magazine. 

It turns out he had broken a cardinal rule: never talk about exes or previous crushes in front of your current partner. Okay, so maybe he should have seen that one coming. 

He heard the front door open, and the soft footsteps that he recognised as Roger’s. His boyfriend then rounded the corner and smiled when he saw Brian sitting at the table, laid out all fancy, flowers and candlelight included. 

“Wow, I  _ was _ wrong; it seems romance  _ isn’t _ dead.” He said wryly, but his voice was full of affection. 

Brian beamed, standing up from his chair and walking over to kiss Roger. He wrapped one arm around the shorter man’s waist and pulled him close, pressing their lips together and making the blonde laugh. One thing that had not been hard about their relationship, Brian had discovered, was kissing. Ever since they had shared their first kiss a few months ago, Brian had made it his goal to make up for the months of lost time; Roger had no complaints. 

Once he pulled away, the blonde pressed their foreheads together and smiled, “Have I ever told you that you are an amazing kisser?” 

Brian scrunched up his nose, “Only every time we kiss.” 

Roger threw his head back, laughing at Brian’s comment, then kissing the tip of the older man’s nose before he unwrapped himself from Brian’s embrace and walked towards the table, “What are we having for dinner then?” 

“It’s a secret,” Brian said as he walked into the kitchen, then came out holding a tie in his hands, “I want you to taste it without knowing what you’re eating.” 

Roger raised his eyebrows, “Kinky. I like it.” 

The older man just rolled his eyes and walked towards Roger, gently placing the tie over his eyes and fastening it behind his head, “Tell me if it’s uncomfortable.” 

“Will do,” Roger said, “Also, my safe word, in this case, is  _ ‘fork’ _ . Or would you prefer if we used the traffic light system?” He teased, waggling his eyebrows under Brian’s fingers. 

Brian rolled his eyes, “You are insufferable.” 

Roger let out a guffaw as Brian walked into the kitchen once again, getting both of their bowls of Minestrone, and setting one in front of Roger before sitting down. 

It’s only now he realises the flaw in his plan when he notices that (a) Roger can’t see the plate  _ or cutlery _ and (b) since he can’t see them, he wouldn’t be able to get the soup into his mouth without spilling it everywhere. It’s then that the obvious answer comes to mind which would save him the embarrassment of making Roger realise that he had failed in his plan of surprising him with the food. 

“Alright, open up.” 

“Before I do,” Roger said, holding his hands up, “have you considered what this would look like if Freddie and John were to get home right now?” 

Brian could only imagine. “It would look like ten years of guaranteed bullying and teasing,” Brian answered, as he scooped up some of the soup on Roger’s spoon, “Now open up, I really do want you to taste this.” 

Roger chuckled, a light blush spreading across his cheeks, then dutifully opened his mouth.

> _ii. accomodation_   
> 

Roger let himself fall back on the mattress and groaned as the strain of standing up for the better part of the day was finally taken off his back. Recording the vocals for  _ ‘March of the Black Queen _ ’ had taken a toll on all of them, but especially on Roger who had to spend almost all day screaming his lungs out at Freddie’s command. 

His throat felt utterly raw, almost like he had swallowed sandpaper, his feet hurt from standing up for so long, and there was an aching pressure at the base of his spine that was driving him crazy. 

Seconds later, Brian walked into the room, face planting directly onto the bed beside Roger, and groaning into the quilt. The drummer turned his head to look at his boyfriend, his unruly mop of hair and lovely, lovely, eyes. Brian had turned his head as well and was looking back at Roger. He smiled, little fangs and all, when the younger man turned his head, “Hi.” 

Roger gave a small smile, “Hi.” 

“You looked beautiful today,” Brian commented as he reached over to brush a lock of hair out of Roger’s face. 

“Even when my voice when so high I was about to bust a nut?” He raised his eyes sceptically. 

Brian snorts, “Okay, alright, you looked pretty  _ almost _ all day.” 

At that, Roger pretended to be offended, “Asshole. You were supposed to say I looked pretty regardless.” 

Brian is now laughing, “Well, I’m not a good liar.” 

They both laugh, then keep talking about nothing until their chat turns into a fully-fledged make out session. Roger had at some point climbed on top of Brian, grinding against him and making pretty moans when Brian kissed him just right — running his hands through the tangled mess of Brian's hair, tugging lightly whenever he wanted to take control of the kiss. 

It had escalated gradually, and after a while, Brian couldn’t help but notice the hardness in Roger's jeans pressed up against him and the way he wantonly moaned every time the guitarist moved his hands lower. It was equally impossible to ignore the fact that he was rapidly approaching a similar state. He pressed one firm kiss to Roger's mouth and then leaned back on the pillows, trying to think of how to phrase this while catching his breath. 

"Can I—" a soft blush crept upon his cheeks, "Rog, can I try something?" 

The blonde nodded without hesitation, trusting Brian completely as the guitarist undid the button of Roger’s pants and slowly pulled down the zipper. He watched Brian with interest as he worked to pull down his pants until Roger placed a hand on Brian’s arm, “Are you sure about this?” 

“I don’t want to have sex just yet if that’s what you’re asking,” Brian said as he ran his hands down Roger’s thighs, jeans pulled down halfway “, but I do want to make you feel good.” 

Roger helped Brian get his pants off, and then made a show of getting rid of his underwear. He fiddled around in his nightstand, handing Brian a small bottle of lube he had bought ‘just in case’. Finally, he got back into his original position, straddling Brian, and resumed kissing him heatedly. The guitarist then surprised them both, using the opportunity to flip them over, leaving Roger underneath him. 

Brian pressed their foreheads together, his expression a mixture of desire and nervousness, “Tell me if I’m doing something wrong, okay?” 

He peppered Roger’s face with kisses as he popped the lid of the bottle open and coated his hand with lube. The smaller man giggled as Brian placed one last kiss between his eyebrows, wondering (not for the first time) what he had done to deserve him, “I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” 

Roger couldn’t help but let out a gasp once Brian wrapped his hand cautiously around the tip of Roger’s cock, then traced the slit making Roger arch his back. He started slow, making the younger man shudder as he slowly pumped his hand up and down, twisting his wrist every so often, resulting in soft moans falling from the other man's lips. As his confidence grew, he began to speed up his pace, earning a few whimpers and half-mumbled, half-gasped, mentions of his name, or ' _ yes, like that, just like that.'  _ It was only when Roger's eyes rolled back in his head, that Brian stopped in his actions. 

Roger looked back at him through hooded eyes, "Why'd you stop?" 

Brian shrugged, a rare, devilish smile spreading across his face, "I just— felt brave, all of a sudden." 

"What do you—" But Roger didn't get to complete the sentence, because Brian scooted backwards and lowered his head, licking Roger's cock from the base to the tip, then sucking on the head. Head thrown back, and shouting Brian's name; Roger came all over the guitarist's shirt. Brian stroked Roger through his orgasm, coaxing, even more, shakey moans out of the drummer.

Roger came back from his high panting and looking down at Brian as if he had hung the moon, "Are you  _ sure _ you’ve never done this before?" 

Brian laughed at Roger's slurred words, then took his soiled shirt off and using it to clean up whatever cum had managed to land on the drummer's thighs and his hands, then throwing it in the general direction of the clothes hamper. "I am 100 percent positive." 

Roger opened his arms, beckoning Brian to crawl into them and the guitarist obliged. Placing his head on Roger's chest and nuzzling up to his boyfriend, "Well, if that's what you do on your first time, I'm more than excited to know what you are going to be able to do with a little bit of practice." 

Brian chuckled and let his eyes close, only to pry them open a second later when Roger stroked his thumb across his cheek, "Do you want me to return the favour?" 

For a second, Brian considered it. After watching Roger's reaction, he found himself very, very interested in experiencing a handjob from his boyfriend himself, but then decided to quit while he was ahead, they had plenty of time for that later. So he shook his head, "Not tonight. Right now I just want to cuddle with you." 

Roger cooed for a second at Brian's sleepy tone, then he sat up, "Alright stud, then let me get us ready for bed." 

> _ iii.  challenge  _

The dim lighting in the nightclub was barely enough for Roger to make his way across the room without making a fool of himself by tripping or bumping into someone. At the moment, however, he wasn’t thinking about that; all he could think about was the awful text he had received a few moments before and its implications. He thought about the thousand and one horrible scenarios that Deaky’s text forced his mind to imagine. 

**_deacon:_ ** _ come to the bathroom please _

**_deacon:_ ** _ bri needs you _

He sprinted up the stairs, taking two at a time, and found that Deaky was waiting for him outside the door. He was tapping the screen of his phone anxiously, and when he saw Roger, the bassist grimaced slightly, “He’s inside.” 

Roger felt something twist inside his chest at John’s slurred words. He knew he had started drinking before he had turned eighteen, and he knew that he was barely a few years older than the bassist, but the guilt was starting to claw its way up his throat recently. Even more so now that they were gaining popularity with Sheer Heart Attack and John was becoming a habitual drinker. 

Roger gave him a tight-lipped smile, “I’ll deal with it. You go, drink some water.” 

“ _ Roger, _ ” John complained, but the blonde glared at him. 

“I mean it, John. Water. Not Tequila, or Vodka, or whatever you like to drink nowadays. Water.” 

The look he gave the bassist left no opportunity for arguing and he pushed into the bathroom. The smell of cleaning chemicals and puke wafted into his nose as soon as he stepped in. The air inside the bathroom was much cooler, and the sounds of conversation replaced the music. Roger called out for his boyfriend and walked towards the last stall once Freddie answered. 

Once he opened the door, he was met with the image of Brian slumped against the toilet, drunkenly mumbling something to Freddie as the older man cradled the guitarist’s head, trying to keep it upright. Freddie smiled at Roger and then turned to Brian, “Lovie, Rog’s here.” 

Brian instantly seemed to brighten, which made Roger’s heart clench even more. He looked up through heavy-lidded eyes and smiled sloppily at Roger, “Heeey.” 

Roger kneeled, and Brian instantly slumped forward, burying his face on the drummer’s shoulder, “Hi, baby. Let’s get you home, yeah?” 

Brian whined, shaking his head slightly, “ ‘wanted to dance… with you.” 

Tears filled the drummer's eyes at seeing Brian like this, shame making him feel like he might just throw up, “We’ll— we’ll dance tomorrow, alright? I promise you we will, right now I just really want to get home.” 

Brian nodded then, and Roger looked up at Freddie, who was staring at them with slightly unfocused eyes, “Go get Deaky, we are going home.” 

“Rog I can—” 

“No,” Roger insisted, “we are leaving now. I am not coming back to get you later, and you are not going to call a cab. Go get Deaky and let's  _ leave _ .”

Getting them all inside the car was a long, arduous, task. As was getting them up the stairs to their little apartment. He made sure that all of them had something to drink once they woke up, and that Brian was wearing his pyjamas correctly and was tucked under the blankets. It was only after everyone was passed out in their beds that Roger wandered out into the kitchen. He could hear the soft snores coming from all of the bedrooms, the creaks and groans of the mattresses as they shifted around, and the mumbling sounds Freddie often made in his sleep. 

He leaned on the counter, putting his head in his hands, and finally, finally, letting the tears come. They were silent, rolling down his face and landing in splotches on the counter in front of him, dripping down his chin. 

It had been a long time since he had felt that guilty; since he had had to be the responsible one. But seeing his boyfriend three shots away from alcohol poisoning, puking his guts out in the bathroom of some second rate club had stirred something inside him. Memories of all kinds came rushing back to him, plaguing him and making him cry harder until he passed out from exhaustion, head in his hands. 

He was awoken early that morning when he heard the door to their room being opened. He lifted his head a little and found Brian staring at him, his head tilted to the side, “What are you doing out here, dove?” 

Roger ignored his question, raising his head and turning to fully face him, “How are you feeling?” 

“I’ve got a killer headache and nausea,” Brian said as he walked over, “but mainly I’m just feeling lonely. I missed you in bed.” 

The blonde licked his lips, which were cracked and dry from worrying them, “Sorry, I fell asleep while listening for any trouble around the house.” 

Brian looked at the other room, then smiled, “They’ve had worse. They’ll live. I, however, need you tonight.” 

Roger looked away, trying to hide the tears that once again filled his eyes, “ ‘m sorry.” 

“It’s alright,” Brian placed a hand on his shoulder, massaging it a little, “you can make it up by coming back to bed.” 

Roger shook his head, “No, I’m sorry ‘bout tonight. It’s my fault.” 

Brian stopped rubbing his shoulder and furrowed his eyebrows, “What are you talking about?” 

“The drinks,” The blond sighed, leaning away from the guitarist’s touch, “the wild party, you drinking until you puked. That wasn’t you until I came into your life. I’m sorry.” 

“Roger I—” 

“Why’d you change?” Roger asked, “Is it to impress me? Or to please me? Or—” 

The older man grabbed his shoulders, turning him around and making the stool Roger was sitting on squeak in protest. Then Brian lowered himself slightly so that they were at the same level, grabbed Roger’s face between his hands, and looked deep into his eyes, “Roger, I hate to say this, but not everything is about you.” 

Concern filled Brian’s eyes as he stared at Roger. Roger, who looked like he had been run over by a truck, though Brian was sure he’d only had a pint. 

“It’s not. I swear. And yeah, you taught me to drink, but I’m doing it because I want to. Not because you told me to, or because I want to be more like you. So don’t go around feeling guilty about something you shouldn’t be feeling guilty about, and come to bed with me. You should be feeling guilty about not cuddling with me every moment you can, not about me suddenly liking to get drunk every now and then.” 

Roger let out a wet laugh, leaning his head into one of Brian’s hand, “I’m sorry.” 

“Third and last ‘I’m sorry’ for today, alright love? I can’t stand seeing you like this.” 

Brian stepped closer then, pressing Roger’s face to his chest and placing a kiss on top of his hair. Roger wrapped his arms around the guitarist’s waist, nuzzling into his ribs. 

“Brian?”

“Yeah?” 

“What happens if I ever turn into  _ him _ ?”

Brian knew that was one of Rogers greatest, most deep-seated fears. “If that, stupidly impossible, thing ever happens,” Brian said, running a hand through the drummer’s hair, “Then I’ll be here to help the  _ real you  _ return.” 

> _ iv. sexual exploration _

The night of their second anniversary ‘A Day at the Races’ gets released. Roger doesn’t realise this until three hours before their release party when Freddie walks by, a devilish smirk adorning his face, and says, “Brian’s got quite the gift planned for you. What are you giving him?” 

Roger nearly passes out, and it must have shown on his face because Freddie starts laughing at the top of his lungs, “You didn’t get him  _ anything _ ?” 

Roger’s sure he just turned the colour of the wall behind him, which is pure white, “With everything going on I just...I forgot today was our anniversary.” He smacked his palm over his face, he was  _ so screwed _ . 

He then spent the rest of the night fretting about what to do for their anniversary. By the end of the night when Brian told him that he wanted to go home, he already knew what he was going to do. Thankfully he still had a bottle of Chardonnay stored in the back of their fridge, their car had gasoline, and he still had that perfect stargazing spot pinned in his Waze locations. It wasn’t much, but he was sure that Brian, the hopeless romantic, would be more than happy with his (yes, a little last minute) gift. 

That is until they get home. 

Brian barely waits until the door is closed to press Roger to the wall and kiss him hungrily. He only interrupts the kiss to suckle at the spot right below Roger’s earlobe. The one he knows drives the drummer up the wall, “I have a gift for you.” 

“Oh yeah?” Roger lets out a soft moan, “What would that be?” 

“I want you to top me.” He whispered hotly into his ear. 

Rogers blood rushes south almost immediately. He feels himself harden in his pants and can’t help but moan like a teenager. His body feels like it’s been lit on fire at the thought of having proper sex for the first time in more than two years. Then he remembers the reason why he had self-imposed that dry spell and gently pushes Brian away a little. 

“Babe, are you sure?” Brian nods quickly, kissing Roger once again, but before he can deepen the kiss, Roger pushes him away once more, “Bri, talk to me, darling. Are you sure you really know what you’re getting yourself into?” 

“Yes,” the older man says firmly, “ _ God,  _ yes, I know. I’ve even practiced getting myself ready.” 

“Ready?” For a second Roger’s lust-fogged brain doesn't comprehend what Brian is talking about, then the taller man ghosts his fingers over the curve of Roger’s ass, and that’s the last thing he needs to lose his last remnants of control. 

He kisses Brian’s mouth with a newfound fervour, turning and pressing the guitarist to the wall and coaxing small moans out of him every so often, “Brian May, did you really?” He asks, genuine surprise mixing with his teasing. 

Brian giggles, which is something Roger has found that he does a lot during sex, blushing for the first time since they started their make-out session, “Why don’t you find out?” He dares, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. 

The walk to their room is made longer by the fact that they are stripping as they go, barely able to keep their hands off each other. Once they’re on the bed Roger realises two things, the first is that there was already a box of condoms and a bottle of lube on the bed and the second is that his boyfriend, amid his excitement, still looks very nervous. 

Roger’s gaze softens, and cradles his boyfriend’s face, “If anything, and I do mean anything, makes you uncomfortable you tell me, alright, Brimi?” 

Brian smiles, “Yes. I can do that.” 

It starts out slow. Roger takes his sweet time kissing down Brian’s throat, leaving hickeys and love bites as he works his way down. He gives Brian’s nipple one experimental flick of his tongue and relishes the whimper that his boyfriend let outs. 

“Can I keep going?” 

Brian nods, head thrown back in pleasure as Roger sucks at his nipple and rolls it with his tongue. Meanwhile, his hands roam Brian’s body, tracing his waist, his belly button, his hips, his thighs and finally his groin. Brian gasps out loud at the first fleeting graze against his cock and Roger starts to tease him like he knows the other man likes. He carefully draws out little gasps and whines as he uses one finger to trace the vein on the underside of his cock, never giving him more friction than a light, teasing, roll of his cockhead with his thumb, or a light stroke. Roger knew that Brian hated when he gave him hand jobs without any lube. 

The blonde gave one last kiss to the nipple he was working on, then moved to the next one. Brian groaned, “Please, Rog, stop teasing me.” 

The younger man smiled against the hard nub  and looked up at Brian through lustful eyes, “Aren’t you enjoying it, love?” 

He ran a finger down his cock and reach down to tease Brian’s balls. The older man keened, arching his back off the bed, “If you don’t fuck me right now, Roger Taylor—” 

“What are you going to do?” Roger asked as he ran a finger down Brian’s perineum and ghosted it over his hole, “Beg?” 

“ _ Roger.”  _

“Alright, alright,” Roger pressed a kiss to Brian’s lips and leaned over for the lube and a pillow, “I’m still going to take it slow, okay? I don’t want to hurt you.” 

That seemed reasonable enough for Brian, who nodded and instantly stopped squirming. Roger tapped the guitarist’s hips with one finger, signalling him to raise them up. He placed the pillow below him and spread his legs a little wider. 

Roger coated his pinky with lube, not wanting to start with anything wider, and teased Brian’s hole by blowing it a little before inserting the first finger. Brian sighed at the sensation, instantly relaxing and throwing his head back a little. 

“You really  _ were _ prepared,” Roger commented, perversely pleased, as he pumped his finger in and out of Brian, making the older man moan. 

Roger changed to his index finger after a couple of minutes of teasing Brian with his pinky. Brian was pushing down on his hand, trying to get more friction. Roger kept going at the same punishing pace, slow and teasing, trying to open him up as much as he could before inserting another finger. 

Roger then pressed his middle finger in, and Brian keened at the sensation. Head thrown back mouth open in a perfect ‘O’ shape and eyelids fluttering in pleasure his boyfriend looked like the most beautiful thing Roger had ever seen. He leaned down, kissing the tip of Brian’s cock, and giving the member a long lick. 

That’s how he opened Brian up, slowly, making sure to get out of him every single glorious sound he could. Scissoring the older man, curling his fingers and giving teasing flicks to his prostate every now and then. 

Roger worked in his fourth finger, and the first tear slipped from the corner of Brian’s eye. 

That sent Roger flying off the bed, terrified that he had done something wrong and had somehow hurt his boyfriend. Brian lifted his head up, looking at Roger with questioning eyes, tear glimmering slightly in the light of their room, “Roger? Is everything alright?” 

Roger took one tentative step forward, “Bri, love, you are crying.” 

The guitarist wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, looking embarrassed, “Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...” 

Roger walked over to the bed, sitting between Brian’s spread legs and started massaging his hips, “Why were you crying?” 

“Just forget it,” Brian said, “It’s embarrassing. Come back here and—” 

Roger pressed a kiss to Brian’s lips, shutting him up, “Brian if I did something to make you cry, I need to know—it’s really important to me.” 

For a moment, Brian looked unsure, eyes flickering all over Roger’s face before sighing, “You didn’t do anything—well obviously you did but it’s just..I’m just really happy. It seems silly, but I feel like I finally have everything I’ve ever wanted and—of course, now I’ve gone and ruined the moment.” He closed his eyes , feeling embarrassed. 

“It’s not silly,” Roger pressed a kiss to Brian’s forehead, “and you didn’t ruin anything. If anything you made it better.”

To prove his point, Roger inched his hand downward and stroked Brian’s dick. Making the guitarist moan and buck up into his touch again. Quite possibly more turned on that before, he gave himself a couple hard strokes before reaching over and grabbing a condom. He ripped open the rubber and promptly pulled it down on his cock, then lubed up as much as possible, wanting to make this pleasurable for Brian. 

Roger placed himself at Brian’s entrance, not pushing in yet, and looked into his boyfriend’s eyes, “Put your arms around me, it’ll make it easier.” 

Brian did, without a second thought, and Roger started pushing in slowly. He sank in a little and seeing Brian’s eyes widen he waited a moment for him to adjust before pushing in a little more. It was a good thing, actually,  that he was distracted by gauging Brian’s reactions, otherwise the tight head might have ended things embarrassingly soon. After a couple of minutes, Roger bottomed out, and both of them groaned at the feeling. It was then that Brian hooked his legs around Roger’s waist, pressing his head to the crook of the drummer’s neck and grinding firmly against him, seeking more. 

But before Roger started really moving, he pressed a firm kiss to Brian’s head of unruly curls, “I love you Bri. More than anything.” 

The night they came a few minutes after they started, too overwhelmed by everything that had just happened. Roger was mindful of cleaning them after all was done, making sure that there was no cum or lube on their bodies. And then getting into bed with Brian and snuggling into his chest. 

The older man was running a hand through his blonde locks, humming a soft melody, “Rog?” 

He hummed in response. 

“I might have been a little distracted before, but I love you too. More than anything.” 

> _ v. commitment  _

The morning after their fifth anniversary is glorious. 

Sun is shining down from the windows, making Roger’s recently cut hair look like a halo around his face. Brian can hear the sound of the waves breaking on the shore, as well as the chirping of birds, the rustling of the trees and the chefs and maids taking care of their breakfast for them. 

One thing was sure, Brian loved touring. 

Every once in a while, their management would pamper them, giving them a night of luxury before they had to go back to their hectic schedule. Brian and Roger had asked for this particular night off in advance, and Miami had been more than happy to give them what they wanted. 

He had even helped Brian chose the ring which was currently stuffed deep into his side of the closet. 

He couldn’t wait for Roger to wake up, for his boyfriend to smile and urge them to go to the pool. Their beautiful pool, with a seaside view, and have something delicious to eat as he declared his undying love for the younger man and ask him to marry him. 

He had been so lost in thought that he didn’t notice when Roger opened his eyes, or when the younger man scooted closer. He only noticed when Roger cradled his face and gave him an Eskimo kiss. 

“Would you marry me?” 

Brian blinked twice, thinking he must have misheard him and leaned away, “What?” 

“I asked, ‘would you marry me’, Brian Harold May?” 

Or that. That could work too. Brian let out a low chuckle, “Funny, I was going to ask you the same thing...” 

Roger’s eyes lit up, “So, that’s a yes?” 

“Only if you let me give you my speech tonight,” Brian mumbled as he pressed closer to Roger, “I worked very hard on memorising it and choosing the perfect spot for asking you.” 

“You old sap.” 

He doesn’t know what comes over him, but instead of answering, he licks the tip of Roger’s nose which earns him a shrill shriek of protest. They both dissolve into laughter a few seconds later, giggling as Roger comments on how gross Brian can be. Yeah, that marriage proposal was better, Brian thinks later that day as he stumbles over his speech and nearly drops the ring into the sand. 

Much better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Swing by [my tumblr (@iamnotbrianmay)](https://iamnotbrianmay.tumblr.com/)and say hi! 
> 
> I will answer all of your questions about this fic, and I will answer any HC you have about my story! I love interacting with you!


	22. to keep on loving you is inevitable (prologue)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Prologue...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, everyone, for taking this journey with me. It has been so long since I first posted this and god it kind of feels like sending my kid to college. I watched this fic become one of the most popular fics on AO3 and I can't thank you all enough for that. 
> 
> Thank you for the 452 comments, for 1257 Kudos, and 120 bookmarks. Thank you for my translators in Russian, Chinese and Korean, I appreciate the work you have been doing more than words can explain. Thank you for all the continuous following in both this website and on Tumblr, I love every single one of you. 
> 
> Furthermore, I have to thank my amazing beta, Rose. I couldn't have done this without darling, and it has been the most wonderful experience ever. 
> 
>  
> 
> I hope you enjoy this small look into Brian and Roger's life a few years after the last chapter of the fic.

In the midst of the concert preparations, Isabela could do nothing but carry around her little brother to avoid losing him, or worse, letting him get hurt. She manoeuvred expertly through the tangles of wires, moving equipment, and seemingly endless amounts of roadies, to get to where her parents were. She had wanted to show little Simon what they did ever since she had first seen it, and now that he was old enough to be allowed to come to the concerts she wasted no time in doing so. 

Her dad’s guitar wailed throughout the empty arena, reverberating across the walls of Wembley as he made his way through his solo in ‘ _ Bohemian Rhapsody’.  _ She could hear the clatter of her Papa’s drumset being set up, and the slight variation in sound as the sound crew fiddled with the speakers that lined the walls. 

She saw as her brother covered his ears with his pudgy hands, trying to listen to the guitar without being deafened by the wailing. His eyes were as large as saucers as he looked at the source of the noise, letting out small gasps every now and then. 

“Daddy is a rockstar?” 

She threw her head back, laughing at Simon’s reaction. But before she could answer someone laid a hand on her shoulder, “Daddy  _ is  _ a rockstar, freckles. And your sister is going to be in a lot of trouble if daddy the rockstar finds out you’re here.” 

Roger was glaring at her half-heartedly, although you could hardly be mad at your kids when the youngest of them was babbling excitedly about his Dad being the coolest dad ever, eyes sparkling with joy and little legs swinging excitedly from side to side as he spoke. Roger’s heart melted, and he reached for the younger boy, who Isa handed over with a sheepish smile. 

The little boy grabbed Roger’s face between his hands, “Will Daddy teach me how to play the guitar?” 

It’s now Isabela’s turn to snicker, and Roger grinned, “Yeah, of course, he can buddy. But, I can teach you something much more exciting.” 

“You can?” 

Isa watched as her Papa leaned in and whispered something into her brother’s ear. His little mouth fell into a round ‘O’ shape, and a soft ‘wow’ came from his lips, “I can play guitar  _ and  _ drums?” 

The little imp squirmed from Roger’s grasp, falling to the floor with a soft thump and running over to latch onto Brian’s leg while screaming about wanting to learn guitar ‘ _ now _ ’. Roger, on the other hand, turned around to face Isa and wrapped her in a hug. She had grown in the last couple of years since they had adopted them, and soon she was going to be taller than Roger. He had to appreciate the moments before he was the one that was being hugged and not the other way around. 

He relished in the feeling of having his daughter wrap her arms around him and nestle her head into his shoulder, both of them watching as the small boy jumped up and down as he talked to Brian about how cool it would be if he could play the guitar and play the drums at the same time. Once he looked further out he could see the stadium which was bound to be filled in the next few hours. The thousands of roadies which were looking at the exchange with heart eyes, and Freddie, John, and  _ Jim Hutton  _ cooing from the other side of the stage. It went unsaid, but Brian and Roger had an ongoing wager of when Jim was going to join their friend’s relationship. They knew it was just a matter of time. 

He felt Isa shift, and he leaned back a bit, enough to meet her lovely green eyes and pearly smile as she spoke, “Thank you for choosing us. I couldn’t think of a better life if I tried.” 

 

He was taken back to the day when he had met the other loves of his life. He remembers it as if it was yesterday. They had walked into the adoption centre hand in hand. Brian had been a jittery mess, and Roger was talking more than he normally would. 

They had originally planned on adopting a baby, it didn’t matter if they were a boy or a girl, but they wanted the kid only to know Roger and Brian as their parents. Everyone said it was way easier, less stressful than being shoved right into the famous rockstar lifestyle, and would allow them to live everything a parent would. They had been decided. 

Then a little girl with pigtails, a stained yellow dress, and mismatching shoes had stepped in their way. Bright green eyes, fiery red hair, and thousands of freckles all over her face.

“Hello,” she had said, putting her hand out as if to shake Roger’s hand, “My name is Isabella I am eight years old and I have a brother who is one year old. I want you to adopt us.” 

The young woman who had been showing them around looked mortified at the behaviour of the girl. Far from putting off, both Brain and Roger were intrigued by the red-head and her bold introduction. They crouched down, meeting the girl's eyes and smiling at her, and Roger took her hand and shook it.

“And what’s your little brother’s name, huh?” 

“Simon,” she got closer to them, unlinking their hands and placing herself in the middle, “and we would both like a room to ourselves, please.” 

Both of them laughed and looked at each other, the little girl’s tiny hand looking adorable wrapped around Brian’s long fingers. 

 

Roger smiled, pressing a kiss to his daughter’s head eight years later, “No, I think I should be the one thanking you, after all,  _ you _ chose  _ us _ .” 

She hugged him tighter at that moment, as Roger watched Brian, Freddie, and John play with the little boy as Jim recorded their nonsense with his cellphone. He could hear chatter from around the room about the stadium being full for the third consecutive night, and about Queen earning their twenty-something golden disk. He couldn’t help but feel like everything had turned out more than alright, even with the bumps along the way.

  
And to think this  _ all  _ started because of a fake-relationship for a party. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Swing by [my tumblr (@iamnotbrianmay)](https://iamnotbrianmay.tumblr.com/)and say hi! 
> 
> I will answer all of your questions about this fic, and I will answer any HC you have about my story! I love interacting with you!


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